


Friends With Benefits

by Heavenly_Pearl



Category: Kaleido Star
Genre: Drama, F/M, Romance
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-06
Updated: 2019-10-05
Packaged: 2019-10-23 02:40:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 6
Words: 24,659
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17674877
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Heavenly_Pearl/pseuds/Heavenly_Pearl
Summary: Dedicated to her career at Kaleido Stage, Layla Hamilton has no time to devote to a boyfriend, but when she and her partner Yuri Killian begin sleeping together for fun, their friendship is tested.





	1. Chapter One

**Author's Note:**

> NOTE BEFORE READING: This fic is technically a sequel to "Blood On His Hands", but I don't think it's really necessary to have read it to enjoy this story. (Although I hope you do!)

Layla Hamilton did not want a boyfriend.

It wasn't that she wasn't interested in the opposite sex – she was – but love and romance were distractions she didn't have the time or luxury to enjoy. Maybe in the far future, when her career was on the decline and she had achieved all her professional goals, she would consider getting married and raising a family, but at the moment, the only thing that mattered to her was performing at Kaleido Stage. Even though she was already the top star at the tender age of eighteen, she knew that she had not yet reach her peak.

However, just because she was dedicated to her career, that didn't mean she didn't experience the occasional sexual urge. She was a teenager; it was normal. Usually she took matters into her own hands, so to speak, but as of late, pleasuring herself wasn't cutting it. She wanted to feel the heat of somebody's skin against hers, their fingers caressing her body as their lips claimed hers, bringing her to the point of ecstasy...

As Layla took a drink from her water bottle during a break from practice, she watched her partner Yuri Killian wipe the sweat from his brow with a towel. He was going shirtless, as a record-setting heat wave had hit Cape Mary just as Kaleido Stage's main air-conditioning unit decided to go on the fritz. Everybody else was complaining up a storm about the unbearable temperatures, but Layla had to admit there were some perks to the situation.

She thought back to Paris, the previous winter when they had been named the champions of the prestigious International Circus Festival. To celebrate, they had indulged in a bottle of expensive champagne – perfectly legal in France, where the drinking age was lower – and ended up sleeping together. Her first time.

She hadn't enjoyed it much. Alcohol and sex were a bad combination, and Yuri had been upset about the unexpected death of Sophie Oswald, a fellow participant in the Festival he had apparently been seeing.

But the next morning, he made it up to her by doing some amazing things with his tongue. Layla's face went flush as she flashed back to the incredible climax he had given her that almost rivaled the feeling she had felt when they had performed the Golden Phoenix at the Festival to a standing ovation.

"Layla, you feeling okay?" Yuri asked, breaking her away from her reminiscence.

"What?"

"Your face is all red."

"I'm fine," she said, mentally berating herself for thinking of such things in the middle of practice. "Just a little over-heated, I guess." She took another swig of ice cold water, then placed the bottle against her forehead. The chill felt wonderful against her sweaty skin. "I hope the air-conditioner is repaired soon."

Although she certainly would miss the sight of shirtless Yuri…

"You're telling me." Yuri grabbed his own bottle, took a couple of large gulps, then poured the rest of the remaining water over his head. "Ah, that feels better," he said, running a hand through his wet hair. "What do you say we call it a day? It's nearly impossible to train in this heat."

Layla hated cutting practices short, but for once, the idea didn't seem so bad. Besides, opening day for their new production had been pushed back a week while the problem with the air-conditioning was being fixed.

"I think that sounds good," she agreed, starting to gather her things. She could always practice on her own later at home. Her father had a training facility built in the basement of their sprawling estate especially for her.

"Want me to give you a lift home?" Yuri offered, as he often did.

Layla had a limo and personal chauffeur at her beck and call, but she rarely used them. When he once asked her why, she told Yuri that she didn't like flashing around her father's wealth like that, but in truth, she simply enjoyed riding in his prized Ferrari. Whenever she got around to getting her driver's license – another thing she had put off in favor of focusing on her training – she wanted a car similar to his.

"If it's not a problem," she said.

"No problem at all. I want to take a shower and change first, though, so let's meet back up in…say, thirty minutes?"

"Sounds fine to me." She could use a cold shower herself. "Meet you at the car?"

"I'll be waiting."

The both of them then headed to their separate dressing rooms – one of the perks of being a headliner. The moment the door shut behind her in the bathroom, Layla peeled off her practice clothes and stepped under a blast of freezing water. The sensation was harsh at first, but once she became accustomed to the temperature, it was a welcome change from the extreme heat.

"Ah, this is heavenly," she murmured, slathering her favorite jasmine-scented shower gel all over her body.

Underneath the cold water, Layla's nipples had become hard and erect. She cupped her breasts with her hands and began twirling her thumbs over the nubs. Soon, she was quite aroused, and she reached for a girl's best friend – a detachable, pulsating showerhead. Concentrating the stream of water at her most intimate spot, she brought the picture of a shirtless, sweaty Yuri to the forefront of her mind and imagined him pleasuring her the way he had in Paris. It didn't take long before her orgasm hit – hard – blissful waves crashing over her as she cried out in ecstasy.

When she was finished, Layla quickly washed her hair, then stepped out of the shower, wrapping a soft terrycloth towel around her middle. She returned to the main room and took a seat at her vanity to apply moisturizing lotion to her skin before she began braiding her wet hair in lieu of blow-drying it.

 _Sometimes I wish I hadn't pushed Yuri away,_ she thought, still remembering Paris. At the time, it seemed like the best decision. He had been grieving Sophie Oswald, and Layla knew from the start that he was only using her to forget his pain. It was hardly the best way to start a relationship – not that she had wanted one in the first place.

She had been with a couple of other men since Paris. One was a handsome waiter/aspiring actor who had worked at a party her father forced her to attend. The other, some nameless face she had picked up at a club on a lark. Both were meaningless one-night stands. Neither of them had satisfied her, even though the waiter, at least, had some skills.

Layla had decided that random sex with strangers wasn't her style. She wanted to be with someone who knew her, someone who she could trust.

Someone like Yuri.

However, she didn't want a boyfriend. Just sex.

She wondered if he would be interested in such an arrangement.

"Don't be silly, Layla," she told her reflection in the mirror, reaching for a tube of lipstick.

But was the idea really so ridiculous?

* * *

 

Yuri waited for Layla inside his car, the motor idling as he turned the AC on full-blast. It wasn't environmentally friendly, but screw the environment. It was too freaking hot to sit around in this heat.

Fortunately, she didn't make him wait too long. A couple of minutes later, the passenger-side door swung open, and Layla slid into her usual seat. "Oh, this feels nice," she said, adjusting one of the vents so that the air blew on her face.

"Ready to go?" he asked as she buckled her seatbelt.

"Whenever you are."

Yuri pulled out of the Kaleido Stage parking lot and onto the highway leading to the Hamilton estate. Layla didn't seem to be in the mood for talking, so after a few minutes, he turned on the radio to his favorite station. He didn't mind the lack of conversation. She wasn't one for making small talk, and he didn't care much for it either, although he could be quite witty and charming when the situation called for it. Halfway there, however, Layla reached over and turned down the volume until it was barely audible.

"Yuri, are you seeing anybody at the moment?"

Yuri glanced over at her, mildly surprised by the question. They almost never spoke of personal matters. "No, nobody special," he said. "We've been so busy lately, it's hard to find time to date."

"Oh."

"You? Do you have a boyfriend?"

"Of course not." She sounded almost offended that he thought she would. Turning to look out the window, she continued, "I told you before, my career at Kaleido Stage comes first. A boyfriend would just be a distraction." Her hands clutched at the hem of her dress. "But…"

"What?" he prodded, unaccustomed to Layla seeming so…nervous. She was always confident and self-assured, the picture of poise.

"Well… Do you want to do it?"

Yuri veered slightly off the road, shocked. Once he composed himself, though, he began to laugh. "That's a good one, Layla."

"I'm being serious," she said more assertively, reaching over and placing a hand on his upper thigh. "Women have needs, too."

"Sure, but –"

"Pull over. There's a rest stop."

"This is insane," he said, even as he followed orders.

The rest stop was deserted. "Good, there's nobody else here." Layla took off her sunglasses and unbuckled her seatbelt. "Push back your seat," she told Yuri as she kicked off her heels. She then reached underneath her dress to pull down her panties.

Yuri knew it probably wasn't a good idea. After what happened in Paris, things had been awkward between them. It was only recently that their relationship had returned to some semblance of normal. He couldn't risk jeopardizing it again, not when he had yet to get his revenge on Kalos for his role in his father's early death.

But he never stopped desiring Layla. She appeared in his every erotic dream and starred in all his masturbatory fantasies. Never had a woman gotten so deeply under Yuri's skin.

He turned off the ignition and unbuckled his seatbelt before pushing the driver's seat back as far as it would go. After unzipping his fly and slipping on a condom she found in her purse, Layla straddled his lap, her skirt hiked up around her waist.

"Are you sure about this?" he asked.

"Just sit back and enjoy the ride, Yuri," she said, lowering herself onto him.

And enjoy it, he did. Since he returned from Paris, there had been no one, and he reveled in the warm sensation of being inside a woman again. She felt so good, even better than he remembered. As Layla continued grinding her hips against him, Yuri's hands roamed up her backside until he reached the thin spaghetti straps of her sundress. The dress didn't have a zipper, so he slid the straps off her shoulders and yanked down the bodice so that her full, round breasts were on display.

Layla guided his hands to her chest. As Yuri circled her pink nipples with his thumbs, they hardened under his touch, causing Layla to let out a low moan of pleasure. She liked it even more when he started kissing her neck, alternating between licking and lightly biting the smooth flesh. Her skin smelled of exotic jasmine, the scent reminding him of their night together in Paris.

Feeling himself getting close to release, Yuri wrapped his arms around Layla's back, pulling her closer against him. Her mouth was right next to his ear, and he could hear every single whimper she made. It took all his self-control not to come right then and there, finding the sound unbelievably erotic.

It was she who climaxed first, her muscles contracting around his shaft. Layla gasped in surprise, her eyes widening as her head shot back up, and Yuri realized it must have been her first time orgasming by penetration. In Paris, he'd only gotten her off with his tongue, having been interrupted by a phone call the second time they tried to have intercourse. (The first time wasn't even worth remembering, leaving neither of them particularly fulfilled.) Feeling a bit pleased with himself, he came a few moments later, bucking his hips underneath her as he let out a satisfied groan.

When it was over, Layla climbed off of him and moved back to her own seat. The both of them were breathing heavily, their skin covered in glistening sweat. Neither said anything for a long moment until a green SUV parked in a spot a few feet away from them.

Layla quickly pulled her dress straps back up and smoothed down her skirt. "We should go," she said, buckling her seatbelt once again.

"Right."

After disposing of the condom and zipping his pants, Yuri moved his seat back to its usual position and drove off. The rest of the drive to the Hamilton estate was spent in complete silence. Many questions filled Yuri's mind concerning what they had just done, but he kept them to himself, unsure of how to broach the subject.

As always, he dropped her off in front of the main entrance of the mansion. Layla exited the car and stuffed her discarded panties into her purse. "Thank you for the ride," she said. There was a slight pause before she added, "And…the other thing."

"About that…" Yuri began, but Layla cut him off.

"I'll see you at practice, Yuri."

It was obvious that she had no intention of discussing what had just happened. Yuri got the hint. "Fine. See you later, Layla."

After she closed the passenger side door, Yuri sped off in the direction of his apartment building, silently berating himself for letting his hormones get the best of him. Sleeping with Layla again was most definitely  _not_ a good idea, no matter how incredible it felt. How could he be so stupid?

When he arrived home, Yuri took another quick shower, then changed into a pair of his favorite black jeans. He didn't bother with a shirt; he rarely did when lounging around in the privacy of his apartment. Walking over to the glass door leading out to a balcony, he slid the door open and stepped outside. It was still hot as sin, but a light sea breeze provided some minor relief from the heat, tousling his wet hair.

He sighed, shielding his eyes as he stared out at Kaleido Stage's main tent in the distance, surrounded almost completely by crystal blue waters that seemed to sparkle in the sunlight. The view was the main reason he had chosen the apartment. He wanted Kaleido Stage to always be within his sight, so he would never lose focus on his main goal.

He had almost lost it once before, when he and Layla had first returned from Paris. After what he had done to Sophie Oswald, he questioned if he really had what it took to take his revenge on Kalos. Even now, her death continued to weigh heavily on his conscience – Yuri doubted he would ever be able to forgive himself – but he had decided to move forward with his plans, telling himself that if he didn't, Sophie would have truly died for nothing.

Everybody thought that Kaleido Stage was a place of dreams, where magic become reality, yet Yuri knew better than anyone the cost of making those dreams come true. The majority of performers were lucky to get away with only dislocated shoulders or twisted ankles. His father, however, had paid the ultimate price, encouraged by Kalos to attempt an impossible maneuver as a publicity stunt to drum up business.

Kaleido Stage was no dreamland. It was Yuri's vision of Hell, and Kalos Eido played the part of the Devil to perfection, tempting his performers to perform deadly stunts with promises of fame and accolades, all the while reaping the profits of their hard work from the safety of his office. As long as he made lots of money, he didn't care what happened to the cast of Kaleido Stage.

One day, Yuri  _would_  get his revenge, but now was not the time.

For now, he just needed to play the part of Layla's partner – nothing more, nothing less. What had happened earlier could not – would not – happen again.

No matter how much he wished it could.


	2. Chapter Two

Practices at Kaleido Stage resumed three days later, once the air conditioner was finally repaired. Layla had not seen Yuri since he had dropped her off at home after their last practice. She had thought about calling him and asking him to come practice in her private facility at the mansion, but after what happened…

Her hand wrapped around the side of her neck. The faint remains of a hickie still marred her skin, hidden underneath the high neckline of the leotard she wore. Every time she touched it, she remembered the feel of Yuri's lips on her body, his hands on her breasts…

"Control yourself, Layla," she muttered to herself outside the door to the practice room. "You are stronger than your hormones. Just put it out of your mind for the moment and concentrate on training."

She took in a deep breath, then opened the door. Though she was usually the first to arrive for practice, Yuri was already there, performing a headstand in the middle of the room. His T-shirt gathered around his head and shoulders, showing off his amazing six-pack abs and pecs.

Layla forced herself not to stare, knowing that if she did, she would lose her resolve. This was definitely not the time nor the place to engage in…other activities. "Good morning, Yuri," she said in as cool and professional a tone as she could manage. "You're early today."

"Layla." Yuri flipped to his feet and pulled his shirt back down into place. "Hi."

She took off her jacket and began her usual stretches to warm-up. Though she made a concentrated effort not to look at Yuri, she couldn't resist taking a few peeks. It surprised her to notice that he wasn't paying the least bit of attention to her, his back turned to her as he rolled his shoulders and arms, loosening his muscles.

Layla frowned. Yuri never bothered to hide the fact that he liked checking her out. She'd caught him doing it plenty of times before – a fact that used to annoy her to no end when they were first partnered together – so why wasn't he doing it now, when she  _wanted_  him to look at her? She'd even chosen her sexiest athletic outfit – a black leotard cut high on the thigh with a sheer window highlighting her cleavage – to wear that morning, just for his benefit.

She wasn't used to being ignored.

"Yuri, help me with my stretches," she ordered him. If he wasn't going to pay any attention to her, then she would make him do so.

"I was just about to do some practice swings," he said, still not looking her way.

"That can wait. This won't take long."

He finally turned around, walking over to where Layla was lying face-up on the mat. She was propped up on her elbows, her right leg bent at the knee and her head tilted in what she hoped was an alluring fashion as she stared up at him.

"What do you need me to do?" he asked.

"Oh, uh…" She hadn't thought that far ahead. "Push this leg back to my head," she quickly decided, bringing her back to the floor and lifting up her bended leg.

By accident – mostly – her foot brushed against Yuri's crotch, causing him to let out a small gasp. Layla suppressed a smirk, pleased to see that she was able to get some sort of reaction out of him, but he recovered well, grabbing her ankle and bending her leg forwards.

"Like this?"

"More," she demanded. "Up to my head."

In order to do so, Yuri had to kneel down on the ground, positioning his torso over hers as he held her ankle near her head. The suggestive pose also allowed Layla to feel Yuri's growing erection pressing against her, straining to be released from the confines of his leggings.

"Layla, what do you think you're doing?" he asked in a low voice.

"I'm stretching, of course."

"No, you're not. You're driving a man crazy – that's what you're doing."

"Oh, am I?"

"Drop the innocent act. You know as well as I do that you're doing this on purpose. I want to know why."

"I told you before, Yuri, women have needs," she reminded him, looking up at him. "Is it so terrible for me to act on them? It's not like either of us is married."

"No, but –"

At that moment, the doors to the gym opened, and a young blond man – probably around sixteen or seventeen – entered, his face promptly turning as red as a tomato when he saw the rather compromising position they were in. Misinterpreting things, he stuttered out a fast apology and quickly turned back around, leaving.

Layla felt her face flush as well, never so humiliated in her entire life. She had an image to protect. If word got out that she'd been caught fooling around with her co-star in the gym…

"I'll go talk to him," Yuri said, getting to his feet and running out of the gym before she could even apologize.

* * *

_Which way did he go?_ Yuri wondered, looking both ways when he came to an intersection. The boy couldn't have gotten much of a head start, but the corridor was clear of anyone else in the vicinity. Yuri randomly decided to go left, relieved when he finally spotted his target exiting the men's room down the hall.

"Hey, you!" he shouted, jogging to catch up with him. "The one in the blue jacket!"

The boy came to a stop and turned around, his eyes widening when he saw who was calling to him. "Oh, Mr. Killian. I'm so sorry about walking in on you and Miss Ham—"

Yuri slapped a hand over his mouth, hoping that nobody was in earshot. "Listen – what's your name?" he demanded to know.

"Kim. Kim Rommins." His voice was muffled.

"Oh, sorry," Yuri said, moving his hand away. "Your name?"

"I'm Ken Robbins, sir," he said. "I've just been hired as one of the stagehands."

Yuri couldn't have cared less. "Okay, Ken, listen to me." Clapping a hand on Ken's shoulder, he lowered his voice. "Whatever you thought you saw in there – it never happened. Understand?"

"I-I think so?"

"Good. Because if I hear of any unflattering rumors about Layla floating around…" He tightened his grip on Ken's shoulder. "Well, let's just say I can make your new job very…unpleasant."

Ken swallowed. "My lips are sealed."

"I'm glad to hear it." With that settled, he relaxed his grip and slipped back in his usual "Yuri Killian" mode, giving Ken a friendly smile. It wouldn't do to get on the bad side of a stagehand, after all. "By the way, welcome to Kaleido Stage. We'll be counting on you to help put on a good show."

"I-I'll do my best, Mr. Killian," he said, seeming a bit confused by Yuri's abrupt change in personality.

"No need to be so formal. Feel free to call me Yuri." Finally letting go of his hold on Ken's shoulder, he turned back around to head back to the gym. "See you around, Ken."

After rounding a corner, out of Ken's sight, Yuri let out a sigh. He hoped Layla appreciated the trouble he had gone through to protect her good name. What was with her recent behavior, anyway? If she wanted sex, she had no shortage of fans and admirers who would no doubt gladly take her up on the offer, so why him?

Not that he wasn't tempted… Yuri shook his head, clearing his mind of erotic thoughts of Layla. He had already decided that what happened the other day in his car could not happen again. Their relationship had to remain platonic for the sake of his revenge; he couldn't give into his baser desires.

Upon returning to the gym, he found Layla waiting for him. She stepped forward, clutching a clenched fist to her chest.

"Yuri, I –"

"It's fine," he said. "He promised not to say anything. You don't have to worry."

"Oh, good." She was visibly relieved, looking as if the weight of the world had been lifted off her shoulders. "Thank you."

Yuri walked over to the ladder and started climbing up to the platform. "Come on, we should start practicing," he said, deciding it was best just to pretend that nothing had ever happened.

"Yuri?"

He glanced down at Layla, who was standing down at the bottom of the ladder. "What is it?"

She opened her mouth as if to say something, but then shook her head, changing her mind at the last second. "No, it's nothing," she said, walking over to the other ladder. "Let's get to work."

* * *

Yuri did not offer to give Layla a ride home after practice, so she was forced to call on her chauffeur to pick her up from Kaleido Stage. When she arrived home, she headed directly up to her bedroom and plopped down on her bed. She stared blankly up at the ceiling for several moments until she heard a soft knock on the door.

Layla sat back up and smoothed down her hair. "Come in," she said, knowing without asking that it was her devoted maid Macquarie.

The maid entered the room, carrying a small tray. "I brought you some iced tea, Miss Layla," she announced, setting the glass down on a coaster on top of the bedside table. "I thought you might enjoy a cold refreshment after practice."

Though Layla wasn't very thirsty, she reached for the glass and took a few sips of the drink. "Thank you, Macquarie."

Usually, the maid would have taken that as a dismissal, but Macquarie remained standing where she was, the empty tray clutched to her chest. "Um, Miss Layla, is something…is something bothering you?"

"What do you mean?"

A blush crossed the bridge of the maid's nose. "Perhaps it's none of my business, but you seemed a bit upset when you arrived home."

That came as a surprise to Layla. She thought she had been acting normally, but then again, Macquarie did, on occasion, seem to have the uncanny ability to read her mind. It was one of the reasons why she was such a good servant.

"I'm sorry," Macquarie apologized when Layla didn't say anything. "I shouldn't have said anything…"

"No, it's fine." Standing up, Layla walked over to the full-length mirror in the corner of the room and frowned at her reflection. "Macquarie, do you think I'm attractive?"

The maid blinked. Layla was not usually one to fish for compliments. "Miss?"

"I have a nice figure, right? And a pretty face?"

"You're the most beautiful woman I know, Miss Layla," Macquarie assured her, her blush deepening. "In fact, I think you're amazing."

"Thanks." A brief smile crossed her lips, although Macquarie's words didn't make her feel that much better. Of course she would tell Layla she was beautiful; it was a maid's job to keep her mistress happy.

Besides, it was Yuri's opinion that mattered most.

She let out a sigh. What was she doing wrong? He seemed to enjoy himself well enough that time in the car, but maybe she simply wasn't good at having sex. It wasn't as if she had a ton of experience – certainly nowhere close to Yuri's level. Was that the problem? Did she…bore him?

That was simply not acceptable. She was Layla Hamilton – she was great at everything she tried.

"Miss Layla?"

Layla jumped. "Oh, Macquarie, I forgot you were still here," she said, turning back around.

"Is there anything else you need?"

"No… Wait, do you happen to have a copy of the latest  _Cosmo_  laying around?

Macquarie blinked, looking at Layla as if she had just started speaking another language. " _Cosmo_? You mean, the magazine?"

"Yes. Or a similar magazine would be fine, too."

"I'm sorry, I don't usually read those types of things, but if you'd like, I can pick up the new issue at the store. I was just about to go out to buy some more coffee for tomorrow morning."

"No, don't go to any trouble," Layla said, spotting her computer on her desk and getting a better idea.

"Are you sure? I don't mind."

"I'm sure."

"Well, do you need anything else while I'm out?"

Layla couldn't think of anything, so with a respectful bow, Macquarie finally left the bedroom. After closing the door behind her, Layla turned the lock on the knob and took a seat at her desk, booting up the computer.

She wasn't much of a computer person, admittedly. Her father had bought her the state-of-the-art PC for Christmas last year, but she rarely turned it on, only using it to check her email or occasionally search for reviews on her Kaleido Stage performances. Bringing up the Google homepage in her browser, she hesitated for a moment before typing the word "sex" in the search bar.

"Wow," she said when she saw how many hits came up.

However, most of the top results only dealt with sex in the most dry, technical way, telling her things she already knew from seventh grade health class. Layla sighed. She wanted to know more.

She went back to the search bar and tried a different choice of keywords, bringing up a more fruitful list of results. Clicking on one of the links that seemed the most promising, the webpage opened to a video. Even though Layla was alone, she still glanced over her shoulder before clicking "Play", her eyes becoming glued to the naked couple on the monitor.

Layla tilted her head to the side about midway through the video. Though she was more than flexible enough to get into that position, it was hard to imagine it being very pleasurable for the woman. Still, she learned quite a bit from the video, picking up several tips she was eager to try out if she got the chance.

She continued watching videos and reading how-to articles until dinnertime, nearly jumping out of her skin when Macquarie knocked on the door, announcing that dinner was served. Quickly closing out of the video she had been viewing, Layla called out she was coming and headed downstairs to eat.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: Kaleido Star doesn't belong to me.


	3. Chapter Three

Opening day for Kaleido Stage's newest production,  _Rapunzel_ , had finally arrived.

No matter how many times she opened a new show, Layla became a bundle of nerves before the first performance. Many of her fans – and maybe even some co-stars – would be surprised to hear her admit that, as she always tried her best to put on an air of calm confidence in front of others, but inside, her stomach twisted up in knots, and she frequently had to squeeze her hands into tight fists to prevent them from shaking.

Nerves were a good thing in her book. They meant she cared about her performance and how the audience would react.

Layla was more nervous than usual, however, for she had decided to seduce Yuri Killian after the show. Thanks to her Internet research over the last few days, she had plenty of new ideas she was eager to put into practice. She had even bought her first sexy lingerie set in preparation, the Victoria's Secret bag stashed inside one of the drawers of her vanity.

But that was for later. Right now, she needed to concentrate on getting through the first performance.

After she finished braiding her hair, Layla stood up from her chair and made a few final adjustments to her new costume – a pale pink dirndl-inspired design with a gauzy, detachable skirt. Thankfully, the costume designer had seen reason and realized Layla wouldn't be able to perform her daring tricks and maneuvers while wearing the super-long wig that was part of the original design.

A glance at the clock on the wall revealed it was almost time for the show to begin. Unfurling her fists, Layla forced herself to close her eyes and take several deep breaths.  _I am Rapunzel_ , she repeated several times in her head, a ritual she performed before every show as a way to get into character. When she opened her eyes a few moments later, her nerves had settled.

Layla exited her dressing room and headed toward the stage, spotting Yuri along the way. He walked a few feet ahead of her, the outline of his firm buttocks and muscular legs on full display in the very snug navy tights he wore. Her eyes glued to his backside, she inhaled sharply, her insides twisting in a manner that had nothing to do with nerves.

"Layla, wait up!"

Upon hearing the voice of Sarah Dupont, Layla came to a stop and shook her head, clearing her mind of all inappropriate thoughts of Yuri. She had a show to do; there would be plenty of time to focus on his…assets later.

"I am Rapunzel," she muttered once again to herself as Sarah, dressed in an almost identical costume to hers, caught up to her.

"Hey, thanks for waiting for me," Sarah said, sighing when she saw Layla's simple braid. "You're so lucky you don't have to wear this stupid wig." She struggled to carry the bottom of her ten-foot long blond wig, nearly tripping over a section that had fallen out of her arms. "Remind me when the show has ended to kill Kalos for choosing  _Rapunzel_  for our new production." Sarah was also playing the role of Rapunzel – or rather, Rapunzel's voice. Unfortunately, since her role was much less physical than Layla's, she had no excuse not to wear the ridiculously long and heavy wig.

"I will, as long as you don't make a fool of yourself on stage," Layla said as the two of them resumed walking. While she sympathized with the diva's plight, knowing from her experience at the publicity photo shoot just how uncomfortable the wig was to wear, it was an entertainer's job not to let such things distract them from their performances. "I want tonight's performance to go off without a hitch."

"Don't worry, don't worry! Rehearsals have been going well all week. I have no doubt tonight will be a smashing success!"

Layla pursed her lips. True, there had been no major issues during rehearsal, and Sarah – the most senior and experienced cast member – rarely made mistakes on stage despite her flaky off-stage personality, but she still had her concerns.

Once they reached backstage, Sarah excused herself to get mic'ed by the sound engineer, leaving Layla on her own. She wandered over to the left wing, taking a peek out into the audience. Even though she knew there was no point, her eyes couldn't resist searching for her father's face in the row of seats reserved for Kaleido Stage's investors and special guests.

He hadn't come. She wasn't surprised.

"Good crowd tonight," Yuri said, coming up next to her. "I heard tickets are already sold out for the next two weeks. Kalos must be thrilled."

Layla detected a hint of bitterness in his voice when he mentioned their boss's name. It was something she noticed on occasion, more frequently as of late, though she never asked about it, having little interest in whatever feud was going on between the two as long as it didn't negatively affect the show.

"Two weeks is a good start, but we'll need to get good reviews for tonight's performance if we want an extended run," she said, crossing her arms. " _Romeo & Juliet_ ran for almost six months."

Yuri arched an eyebrow. "You think  _Rapunzel_  can match  _Romeo & Juliet's_ success?"

"Probably not," Layla admitted, knowing that  _Romeo &_  _Juliet_  had been a special production that was unlikely to be duplicated for a very long time, "but I'm aiming for at least a two-month run."

"Well, then, I will do my best not to disappoint."

One of the stagehands called Yuri over to discuss the rigging for one of his solo routines, so he excused himself, leaving Layla once again on her own. She frowned, taking one final look out into the audience before beginning some light stretches to warm up.

If only the production had one spectacular moment to get people talking…  _Rapunzel_  wasn't a bad show by any means, but she feared many fans would be disappointed that it wasn't a masterpiece on the level of  _Romeo & Juliet_, which had featured her and Yuri's iconic Golden Phoenix maneuver as the climax. Kaleido Stage's ongoing success – not to mention her reputation as a Kaleido Star – was on the line. If  _Rapunzel_  bombed, it would be difficult to convince audiences to come back for future performances.

Failure was not an option.

But there was little she could do only minutes before show time except hope that everybody in the cast did their part with no major mistakes. As long as they put out a solid performance, it would probably be enough to satisfy most of the audience and critics, even if they didn't get the rave reviews that  _Romeo & Juliet_ received.

Biting her lower lip, Layla's eyes wandered over to Yuri, who was still talking with the stagehand from earlier. She actually did have one idea for how to bring some excitement to the show, but she had dismissed it as a cheap trick, a gimmick unworthy of someone of her talent. Still, she was not unaware of a certain large subset of fans who enjoyed imagining that she and Yuri were partners both on and off the stage. Would it be so terrible to give the so-called "shippers" a taste of what they wanted?

She shook her head. No, she refused to lower herself to that level, not without good reason. She wanted glowing reviews for her performance and technical ability, not for pandering to the audience.

But if she sensed the show was in trouble… It was an idea worth keeping in mind. Just in case.

* * *

From the wings, Yuri watched Layla and Natalie, the woman playing Mother Gothel, perform their juggling routine, his eyes narrowing. They were doing well, and the audience clapped at all the right moments, but the applause rung hollow – given more out of politeness than genuine awe.

Layla's goal for a two-month run seemed even more of a reach than he thought. In fact, Yuri wouldn't be surprised if people started returning the tickets they had already bought, demanding refunds. The bar had been set high by their last show. The audience expected another  _Romeo & Juliet_, not a technically competent but otherwise unremarkable production, no matter how wonderful and talented Layla was in the lead role.

Not that Yuri minded if Kalos lost a little money, but it served his goals if Kaleido Stage at least remained profitable for now. He didn't have the money or the influence to take over the stage as of yet; it would be another year or two before he could afford to put his revenge into action.

"Yuri, Ryan, and David, you're on in two," Ken said, holding up two fingers. "Get into position."

Yuri nodded in acknowledgement, pushing his concerns aside as he climbed in the saddle of his loyal "steed" – in actuality, two of the lower-ranked male cast members dressed in a horse costume. A couple of the other stagehands snickered behind their clipboards, and even Yuri had to roll his eyes, well aware of how ridiculous they looked, but Kalos enforced a strict "no animals" rule, necessitating such silly measures.

Back on stage, Layla and Natalie had cleared off, the focus moving to Kaleido Stage's resident diva, who descended from above on a swing created to look like flowering vines. Sarah's soaring vocals filled the arena, singing of a desire to one day leave her tower prison and discover true love. As her song reached its climax, Ken gave the cue for Yuri's entrance, Ryan and David moving as gracefully as they could manage while they carried him center stage.

Getting into the role of the prince, Yuri kept his eyes fixated on Rapunzel, enchanted by her beautiful singing. He dismounted his "horse" with a flourish, whipping his cape behind him as he approached the long braid that dangled even beyond her bare feet. His hand reached out to touch it, but the moment he did, Sarah's microphone picked up her horrified gasp.

Yuri glanced upwards, just in time to see the wig falling off Sarah's head. Though she attempted to grab it, it slipped right through her fingers. The mass of golden tresses came pummeling down, missing Yuri only by mere inches thanks to his quick reflexes.

A few scattered chuckles rippled through the audience, followed by hearty laughter once the majority got over their initial shock.

_Shit!_

Thinking quickly, Yuri snatched the wig off the stage and tossed it to Ryan and David. The two of them, abandoning their roles as the horse, carried it off to the left wing while Yuri distracted the audience with an improvised floor routine filled with impressive flips and twists. Sarah's swing was lifted back up and soon replaced with the long rope needed for his Corde Lisse act.

He grabbed the rope and began his routine, getting the show back on track. Making his way up the "tower" where Layla awaited him on the trapeze platform, Yuri performed a complicated series of tricks on the rope, showing off his strength and agility. Again, the audience applauded his effort, a few people gasping when he executed a dramatic death drop, but as with the rest of the show, he didn't get the sense that they were truly enthralled with the act.

When Yuri finally made it up to the platform, Layla walked up to him and placed her hands on his cheeks. "Follow my lead," she said, loud enough that only he could hear.

"Lay–?"

Her name died on his lips as she covered them with her own.

Yuri's eyes widened in surprise. Though the prince and Rapunzel were supposed to share a kiss at this point, he had expected only a fake stage kiss as they had rehearsed.

Yet upon hearing the cheers and whistles from the audience below, Yuri quickly figured out Layla's ruse, impressed by her cleverness. By kissing him, she practically ensured that Sarah's wig mishap would become nothing more than an amusing anecdote in tomorrow's reviews, rather than the main headline. In fact, with enough buzz, the kiss had the potential to save the entire show from failure.

With that in mind, Yuri placed his hands on Layla's hips and drew her closer toward him. If they were going to do this, they might as well give the people their money's worth. The cheers grew even louder as their kiss deepened, for which Yuri was grateful. The noise kept him fully in the moment, preventing him from losing focus and forgetting that they were only acting. Even then, he cursed the small part of him that was disappointed when Layla finally pulled away, brushing him on the platform to reach for one of the swings.

The rest of the show went off without a hitch, and when Yuri and Layla stepped forward to take their final bows, they received a rousing standing ovation. Yuri smiled and waved in appreciation, but he had to admit the applause was somewhat unsatisfying, knowing that it was mainly in response to the kiss and not their actual performances. Beside him, he could tell Layla felt the same, her smile not quite reaching her eyes.

Well, at least they had managed to save the show from certain disaster. It wasn't the amazing opening day the cast had hoped for, but it could have been worse.

A lot worse.

"My dressing room. Ten minutes," Layla said in a low voice that only he could hear as the curtain lowered in front of them.

"Layla?"

But when he rose from his bow and glanced over, she had already disappeared.

* * *

Wondering why he had been summoned, Yuri knocked on the door to Layla's private dressing room fifteen minutes later.

"You're late," she greeted him. She had already taken off her stage make-up and costume, a white silk robe wrapped securely around her body. Opening the door wider, she said, "Come in."

Yuri stepped into the room. It was the first time Layla had ever invited him inside, and he noted that it was larger and more elaborately decorated than his own, filled with numerous flower arrangements from her adoring public. There was even a bed provided, covered with silken sheets and satin blankets.  _Nothing but the best for Layla,_ he thought somewhat bitterly. Kalos knew no limits to keeping his favorite Kaleido Star happy.

"Layla, what is this about?" he asked, crossing his arms and forcing himself not to imagine what she may – or may not – be wearing underneath her robe. "The kiss?"

Sitting down at her vanity, Layla started unraveling her braid. "Oh, yes, sorry about that," she said, her eyes lowering in her reflection as she reached for a silver-plated brush. "I didn't mean to spring it on you like that."

"No, I thought it was a brilliant idea. I just never expected for you to resort to such gimmicks."

"I had to do something." Brushing her now-loose hair, she frowned. "You did a decent job dealing with Sarah's fallen wig, but I couldn't let a huge mistake like that be the audience's lasting impression of the show."

Yuri arched an eyebrow. Only decent? He thought he had done a rather impressive job in the aftermath, especially considering he only had seconds to react and create a distraction. Then again, he had worked with Layla long enough to know that she was rarely effusive with her praise.

"Well, it certainly made an impact," he said. "The only issue is, now everybody is going to expect it. If we go back to performing fake kisses, the audience won't be pleased."

Layla set down her brush, turning around in her chair. "Is that going to be a problem for you?"

Other than the fact that he was still insanely attracted to her and wanted to do a lot more than just kiss on the stage? "No, it's not a problem," he said. "I'm fine with it if you are."

"Good. That wasn't why I asked you to come, though."

Standing up, Layla walked over to the door and twisted the lock. She then turned back around, hesitating only for a moment before untying the knot of her belt and letting the robe slip off her slender shoulders to the floor at her feet.

Yuri's breath hitched at the back of his throat.

Layla had never looked sexier. Dressed in a sheer lace bralette and matching g-string, she was a naughty angel in white. Hints of pink flesh peeked through the delicate fabric, offering a tantalizing glimpse of what laid beneath, while the tiny thong left very little to the imagination.

A smile crossed Layla's lips. "Do you like?" she asked, pressing herself against him as she whispered in his ear.

Yuri didn't trust his voice. All he could do was nod as her nimble fingers unfastened the buttons of his shirt, a hand slipping inside to run over his torso with a feather-light touch.

It wasn't until Layla reached behind her back for the clasp of her bra that Yuri's head cleared enough to come to his senses. "Wait, stop," he said, fighting against his baser instincts, which most certainly wanted her to keep going.

Layla brought her arms back down to her sides, tilting her head to the side. "Don't you want to?"

That wasn't the problem. "I'm…a little confused," he admitted. "When we were in Paris, you said you had no interest in dating –"

"But we're  _not_ dating," she said. "We're just sleeping together."

"So, what? We're, like, friends with benefits? Fuc–"

Layla interrupted him. "Yes, if you must label it, we're friends with benefits. Don't call me that other thing. It's so vulgar."

"Fine. Whatever." Yuri plopped down on the leather sofa in the center of the room and sighed. He couldn't believe what Layla was suggesting. "I just don't know if it's such a good idea."

In fact, he knew it wasn't. Agreeing to kiss Layla on stage was one thing, but this…

"Why not?" Layla walked over to stand in front of him, a hand resting on her hip. "I think it's a great one. I don't want a boyfriend, and you'll sleep with anyone with breasts and a vagina…"

"Hold on. Is that really how you see me?" Sure, he was far from an innocent altar boy, but it wasn't like he was some sex-crazed horndog who screwed every woman he met, either. How did she even come to that conclusion?

Then, with a frown, Yuri remembered their flight back from Paris, when Layla had caught him joining the Mile High Club with a pretty, nameless Frenchwoman he had met on the plane. That had capped off a weekend during which he had cruelly seduced Sophie Oswald for the sake of his revenge and took Layla's virginity – admittedly, not one of his finest moments.

"Well, it's the truth, isn't it?"

"No, it's not," Yuri said. "If you really must know, there's been no one else since we came back from Paris." He immediately regretted revealing that fact.

"Oh, I didn't realize," Layla said, her voice softening. "Because of Sophie Oswald? Did you really care for her that much?"

"Sophie has nothing to do with it. She was just a girl I knew, that's all." A girl he killed, but Yuri immediately pushed that thought away. Even now, whenever he thought of what he had done to her, he felt sick to his stomach. "Can we not talk about her?"

"Sorry. I didn't mean –"

"It's fine," he said, deciding to return to the original topic. "Anyway, I just haven't met anyone." A lie, of course. He had met plenty of girls who, before Paris, he wouldn't have hesitated to take to bed, but none of them could even hold a candle to Layla. "Like I told you, Kaleido Stage has kept me pretty busy as of late. I haven't the time to try to pick up women."

"See? That's why this is the perfect situation. Whenever one of us is in the mood for sex, I can come to you or you can come to me, no strings attached. You can even sleep with other girls if you want. Since we're not dating, I don't mind."

"And you can sleep with other guys?" Yuri asked, trying not to sound too jealous. After all, if he was free to sleep around, it was only fair that she should be able to do the same.

Layla shrugged her shoulders. "Sure, I suppose, but if I wanted to have sex with a bunch of different guys, I wouldn't be suggesting this. Too much trouble."

"I don't know…"

He was tempted. Oh, but he was tempted! What man in his right mind wouldn't be? A beautiful woman offering to have sex with him whenever he wanted,  _and_ she didn't mind if he had other lovers? It was the type of situation most guys dreamed about. And Layla… Yuri desired her like he had no other woman in his life. He had fought against it, buried it deep inside, but ever since their moment of illicit passion in the car, he had thought little of anything else.

Yet he couldn't ignore the annoying little voice in the back of his mind that told him that it would be wrong to take advantage of Layla like that. It was bad enough that she was unknowingly a key part of his revenge against Kalos; to use her for sex as well…

"Perhaps you need a little more convincing?"

She held out her hands, and against his better judgment, Yuri reached for them, allowing Layla to pull him back to his feet. She peeled off his open shirt, tossing it aside, then again reached behind her back to unhook her bra. That time he didn't stop her, his breath catching as her breasts were released from their lacy confines.

"Layla…"

She wrapped her arms around his neck and kissed him, her soft chest pressing against his bare skin in a way that made Yuri moan with desire. All memory of his vow to keep things platonic between them flew out of his mind as his hands slid down her back to her rear, pulling her even closer against him.

Still kissing, the two of them made their way over to the bed. Layla's lips traveled southward, landing soft pecks down his neck, chest, and abdomen until she was sitting on the edge of the mattress. Yuri sucked in a breath as she unzipped his fly and pulled his pants and underwear down to his knees, his cock already half-hard.

Her eyes gazing up at him with what could only be described as pure lust, Layla wrapped one of her hands around his shaft, sliding it up and down his length. It felt nice, but she was being too gentle to really do much for Yuri, revealing some of her inexperience despite her otherwise convincing seductress act. Not wanting to discourage her by saying anything, he covered her hand with his own, squeezing it until Layla got the message and began touching him with a firmer grip.

She was a fast learner, studying his reactions to determine what he liked best and adjusting her technique in accordance. Yuri's breath quickened when she found the proper rhythm, coming closer and closer to the brink until he felt like he was going to burst. Not wanting to come so soon, he grabbed her wrist and pulled her hand away.

He couldn't wait any longer. He wanted inside her. Now.

"Do you have –"

"Vanity," she said, falling back on the bed.

After he finished yanking off his pants, Yuri walked over to the vanity, but he didn't see any condoms laying on top. He searched through the drawers until he found her stash and slipped one on. When he turned back around, Layla was on her hands and knees, her firm buttocks in the air. She had already discarded her thong.

Grinning, he entered her from behind, his hands resting on her hips, and began thrusting inside her. Layla's fingers grasped at the silky bedspread, softly moaning whenever he hit a particularly sensitive spot.

"Faster," she panted, her breathing becoming heavier the longer he continued.

Yuri was happy to oblige, picking up the pace, and Layla let out an immodest scream, quick to bury her face in her arms in case somebody happened to be passing by her room. It didn't take long for his orgasm to follow, pushed over the edge by her reaction.

Layla glanced back at him over her shoulder when they had finished, smirking. "So? Was that enough convincing?"

Sitting down on the bed, Yuri sighed. She was serious about this whole thing, wasn't she? "Are you absolutely positive you want to do this?"

"I wouldn't have asked if I wasn't." Layla grabbed her robe off the floor and put it on, covering her nudity. "Look, if you're worried that I'll have you fired if our arrangement soured, don't be. I promise, whatever happens, I won't let it affect our professional relationship."

She was making it very difficult to refuse her request. "And you meant it when you said I didn't have to be faithful?"

"Sleep with whoever you like, as long as you wear a condom. I'm on the Pill, but I don't want to catch any infections."

"Then…okay," Yuri said, hoping he didn't come to regret his decision. "We can be friends with benefits.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: Kaleido Star doesn't belong to me.


	4. Chapter Four

         Yuri was horny.

         _Very_ horny.

         A few days had passed since he and Layla entered into their little "arrangement", but neither had taken advantage of it as of yet. Truthfully, Yuri just wanted to forget he had ever agreed to such a stupid proposition, but the head in between his legs wouldn’t let him.

         So, as he drove Layla home, Yuri wondered how he should broach the subject with her. He wasn’t accustomed to outright asking for sex. Usually he took a girl out, showed her a good time, and if the mood was right…things would just naturally happen. However, Layla had been very clear that romance was off the table, so it wasn’t as if he could ask her on a date.

         He let out a groan, lightly hitting his forehead against the steering wheel while waiting for the traffic light to turn green.

         "Yuri, it’s just a red light," Layla said, misinterpreting his frustration. "No need to be so dramatic about it. See, it’s already green again."

         "Right. Sorry." He tapped on the accelerator and made a left turn, keeping his eyes on the road as he asked, "So, any plans for tonight?" 

         "No, not really. You?"

         "No, me neither." Yuri briefly risked glancing over at Layla. She, too, was staring straight ahead, although her fingers were digging into the fabric of the white skirt she wore, the hemline coming dangerously close to the top of her thighs. He unconsciously licked his lips and swallowed, feeling himself harden.

         Should he just pull over? Yuri had enjoyed their previous romp in the car, but he had to admit it wasn’t the most comfortable location.

         "Want to go back to my place for a while?" he asked instead, deciding to just bite the bullet. "We can…uh, you know…"

         He ran a hand through his hair, berating himself for sounding like a nervous virgin, but Layla didn’t seem to notice, answering, "Sure, I don’t mind," in her usual tone of voice.

         "Okay."

         They were silent the rest of the short drive to his apartment.

         "Nice place, Yuri," she said, looking around as she entered the living room.

         "Thanks."

         It occurred to him that this was the first time he had ever invited Layla to his place since they had been paired up at Kaleido Stage. He occasionally went to her house to practice at her private gym, sometimes even staying for dinner at her maid’s insistence, but Yuri had never had a reason to ask her over before.

         "Do you want anything to drink?" he asked.

         "Bottled water would be nice, if you have any."

         "Sure. Make yourself at home."

         Yuri headed to the kitchen and grabbed a couple of bottles of Evian from the fridge. When he returned to the living room, however, Layla was no longer there.

         Had she changed her mind? "Layla?"

         "Outside," she called out, and he noticed that the sliding door to the balcony was halfway open.

         Relieved that she hadn’t left, Yuri joined her out on the balcony. "Here," he said, handing her one of the bottles.

         "Oh, thanks." She took the offered drink and twisted off the cap to take a sip. "What a gorgeous view you have. I can even see Kaleido Stage from here."

         "Yeah, it’s pretty nice, I guess." Not wanting to think about Kaleido Stage at the moment, Yuri turned around so that his back was leaning against the railing and took a large gulp of his own drink. "So, are you hungry? I’m not much of a cook, but we can call for delivery if you want."

         Layla looked over at him, frowning. "Yuri, this isn’t a date," she reminded him. "I didn’t come here for food."

         "Right."

         As if he could forget.

         Yuri took Layla’s water bottle from her hand and set it, along with his, down on a small table he had placed out on the balcony for whenever he wanted to eat outside. He then moved behind Layla and reached underneath her skirt, hooking his thumbs around the waistband of her panties.

         "Here?" she breathed, glancing back over her shoulder.

         "Why not?"

         He began slowly pulling down her panties, giving her a chance to say "no" if she wanted, but she didn’t object, stepping out of the lacy briefs when they hit the ground. Getting down on his knees, Yuri lifted up her skirt and admired her firm, tight butt.

         "You have a gorgeous ass," he said, kissing her round cheeks as he ran a hand up the smooth skin of her inner thighs. When he reached the apex, he slipped his pointer finger inside her, pleased to discover that she was already quite wet with arousal. A soft gasp escaped her lips. "Spread your legs."

         Layla did as she was told, gripping the balcony railing as she leaned forward to give him better access. Yuri continued to finger her, experimenting with various positions, pressures, and speeds to determine what she liked best. Circling her swollen clit with a light touch seemed to get the best reaction, Layla almost panting as he increased his speed. Sensing that she was close to climax, he took his finger away and replaced it with his tongue, soon pushing her over the edge. She stifled a scream as he drank of her juices.

         "Oh, that felt amazing," Layla declared, pulling her skirt back down and turned back around to face him.

         Smiling, Yuri rose back to his feet and took a swig of his water – or maybe it was Layla’s. He couldn’t remember which bottle was whose, but after what he had done to her, drinking out of her water bottle was…tame. Almost cute, in a way. What was that phrase he had once overheard Sarah – Kaleido Stage’s resident Japanophile – use to describe it?

         Oh, right. An indirect kiss.

         Setting the bottle back down, he gave her kiss – a direct one, that left little room for interpretation – and asked, "Want to continue this inside?"

         Layla nodded and followed him back inside the apartment, Yuri leading her toward his bedroom until he remembered there were some personal items on display in his room that he would rather Layla not see.

         "Wait here for a sec," he said, holding up a hand. "I want to straighten up some. I wasn’t expecting company, so it’s a bit of a mess in there."

         "Oh, okay."

         Yuri entered his bedroom, careful to close the door behind him, and picked up some of the dirty clothes he had laying on the floor, throwing them in the hamper. He then grabbed a couple of framed photographs of his parents from off his dresser and hid them in the top drawer, underneath his boxer briefs. He was looking around the room one more time, making certain that there was nothing else in sight to incriminate who he really was, when a knock on the door startled him.

         "Yuri, have you finished hiding your porn yet?" Layla asked from behind the door.

         "Just one more minute," he said, not bothering to correct her assumption – although it did remind him of the issue of _Playboy_ that had fallen off his nightstand the other day, wedged in between the bed and one of the table’s legs. He snatched the magazine from its spot and stuffed it underneath the mattress.

         One more quick survey around the room confirmed that he had indeed hidden everything that needed to be hidden, so Yuri finally opened the door and let Layla inside.

* * *

 

         "Sorry about that," Yuri apologized when he opened the door.

         Though truthfully a little annoyed by the wait, Layla shrugged her shoulders and entered the room, closing the door behind her. "No problem. I didn’t mind."

         Layla glanced around the room – his room – and involuntarily bit her lip, realizing it was the first time she had ever entered a single man’s bedroom that wasn’t her father’s. She wasn’t sure what she expected, but it wasn’t much different than hers at home. Of course it was smaller, and the furniture and décor leaned more masculine in style… She frowned as her eyes landed on the bed, which looked like it had been recently been slept in. Yuri was apparently not in the habit of making up his bed when he woke up in the morning.

         "I wonder how many girls he’s screwed on that bed," she mused to herself, a dangerous thought she immediately pushed out of her mind. After all, what Yuri did with other women was none of her business.

         "Layla? Something wrong?"

         Brought out of her head by his voice, she shook her head and walked over to where Yuri stood, crushing her lips against his as she wrapped her arms around his neck. He seemed surprised at first by her sudden boldness, but he soon returned her kiss with equal fervor, one hand finding its way up the back of her shirt while the other caressed her butt through the fabric of her skirt.

         Still kissing him, she subtly pushed Yuri back toward the bed. He sat down on the edge of the mattress, and Layla positioned herself in between his legs. While he fumbled with the tiny buttons of his shirt, she reached for the hem of her blouse and pulled it over her head, revealing the lacy black bra she wore underneath. Yuri sucked in a sharp breath at the sight.

         Layla bent down to kiss him once again, helping Yuri out of his shirt and tossing it on the floor. His hands roamed up her back until they found the closure of her bra. With practiced ease, he unhooked the clasp, releasing her breasts from their confines. His hands then moved down to rest on her hips, pulling Layla closer toward him and taking a pert, pink nipple into his mouth.

         A moan escaped Layla’s lips, and her fingers lightly dug into Yuri’s bare shoulders. Already, she felt the wetness in between her legs returning, a fact made clear to Yuri as well when his right hand disappeared underneath the skirt she still wore. Once again, he slipped a finger inside of her, touching her in the way he knew she liked from his earlier experimentation. Layla’s head rolled back, closing her eyes as she lost herself in the sensation.

         His mouth continued to lavish attention of her breasts. Kissing, licking, sucking – even some very light biting, his teeth just barely grazing her skin. After a while, his other hand joined in the fun as well, caressing and tweaking her hard nipples.

         Soon, Layla felt herself on the brink of climax.

         "Pants off," she demanded, pulling Yuri’s face away from her chest and forcing him to look up at her. "Now."

         She didn’t have to ask him twice. Standing up, he pulled a condom from his pocket, which he handed to Layla, then he quickly divested himself of his jeans and boxer briefs, Layla doing the same with her skirt. When they were both fully naked, she tore open the foil package and slid the condom onto his erect penis. After Yuri sat back down, Layla straddled him and began grinding her hips against his pelvis.

         It didn’t take long for her to orgasm thanks to his earlier ministrations, but Yuri had yet to come. He flipped Layla onto her back, pinning her underneath him, and kissed her deeply. Moaning, she wrapped her long legs around his hips and held onto his neck as he plowed inside of her. He was being a little rough, only really concerning himself with his own pleasure after focusing so much on hers for most of the session, but she didn’t mind.

         A couple of minutes later, he finally came, his body shuddering in ecstasy before collapsing on top of her. He stayed there for several minutes, his heavy breaths echoing in her ear, until Layla glanced over at the alarm clock on the nightstand and saw what time it was.

         "It’s already seven?" she exclaimed, pushing Yuri off of her.

         Layla sat back up and started gathering her scattered clothing from the floor. She hadn’t intended to stay so late!

         As she passed by Yuri’s side of the bed to grab her bra, he reached out for her arm. "Hey, no need to rush out of here," he said, rolling on his side. "Why not spend the night? I don’t mind."

         But she did. Though Layla was tempted by his offer, she knew that staying over would only set a bad precedent. Girlfriends spent the night, not "friends with benefits". If their arrangement was to be successful, she couldn’t allow such a blurring of lines.

         "Macquarie is expecting me home for dinner," Layla said, putting her bra back on. "She’s probably getting worried as it is… Where are my panties?"

         Yuri smirked. "The balcony. Remember?"

         "Oh…right." To hide the blush she felt coming to her cheeks at the memory, Layla tugged her shirt over her head. "Anyway, I need to get going."

         "I’ll drive you back, then," he offered, reaching for his rumpled jeans on the floor.

         "That’s not necessary, Yuri. I can just call a cab to pick me up," she said, pulling her skirt over her hips.

         "I thought you said you were running late. Waiting for a cab will just make you even later," he pointed out. "Let me take you home, Layla. It’s no problem. I was thinking of getting take-out for dinner, anyway."

         "Well…" He made a good point, and if he was going out again, regardless… Besides, Yuri had dropped her off at her house plenty of times before; there was nothing inherently romantic about a friend offering another friend a ride home. "Thanks. I appreciate it."

         A few minutes later, after Layla had retrieved her missing panties from the balcony and Yuri had finished getting dressed again, they were back on the road. The ride from his apartment building to her house was spent mostly in silence, broken only by the sound of the radio playing old 70s rock. During one particular song, Yuri turned up the volume and started tapping his fingers against the steering wheel in time to the beat as he sang along, his voice slightly off-tune.

         The next Sarah Dupont, he was not.

         Layla hid a smile behind her hand, reminded of that night in Paris when Yuri, drunk out of his mind on champagne, had sung "I’m Too Sexy" while performing a striptease for her.

         "Oh, sorry," he said mid-verse, noticing that his singing had caught Layla’s attention. "I just really love this song. It’s one of my all-time favorites."

         "No, it’s fine," she assured him. "What is it called? I like it."

         "’Dream On’ by Aerosmith. I have the CD, if you want to borrow it." He nodded his head toward the glove compartment in front of her. "It should be in there, I think."

         Layla opened the glove compartment and pulled out the stack of jewel cases she found inside. Queen, Led Zeppelin, The Rolling Stones… She paused when she saw an Eric Clapton CD, flipping it over to read the track listing on the back.

         "'Layla' is a great song, too," Yuri said, guessing what track she was searching for.

         Layla, flustered by the way it seemed like he had read her mind, shoved the CDs back into the glove compartment and shut it close. "The Aerosmith CD wasn’t in there."

         "Huh. Must be at home, then. I can bring it to you tomorrow."

         "No, you don’t have to do that. I don’t listen to CDs very often anyway," she said, noticing that Yuri’s car was pulling up to the front of her house. "Thanks again for the ride," she said, climbing out of the car.

         "No problem. See you tomorrow."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: Kaleido Star doesn't belong to me.
> 
> AUTHOR'S NOTES: I've been trying to keep up a once-a-month posting schedule with this story, so I just want to warn you that Chapter Five might take a little longer, depending if I decide to keep the original chapter or just skip onto the next (which is already written for the most part). The original Ch. 5 is kind of filler-y and not strictly necessary, but I want to try to make it work if I can. We'll see. Thanks to everybody who has been reading so far. It's nice to see that there are still some Kaleido Star fans still out there!
> 
> Feel free to follow me on Tumblr at https://kaleidodreams.tumblr.com/.


	5. Chapter 5

         It didn't take long for Yuri and Layla to fall into a routine of sorts. Whenever one of them was in the mood, they would simply knock on the door to the other's dressing room, no explanation needed. Sometimes they would do it there, but, more often than not, if it was after the show, they usually ended up going to Yuri's apartment instead, where they had plenty of privacy and wouldn't have to worry about being caught. They had already had a couple of close calls as it was – not even including Ken Robbins, who so far had kept to his word to keep quiet about what he saw that day in the gym.

         If Mr. Hamilton discovered he was screwing his daughter… Well, Yuri had no desire to find out what would happen in such an event.

         He really was playing with fire. One wrong move, one slip of the tongue, and everything he had worked so hard for these past ten years would be for nothing, his dream of revenge ruined. Yuri knew that, yet somehow it didn't stop him from knocking on Layla's door, his hormones once again winning out against his better sense.

         "Ready to leave?" Layla asked when she opened the door, already changed out of her Rapunzel costume and into a polka-dot print dress.

         "Whenever you are."

         "Let's go, then."

         She closed the door behind her and followed Yuri out to his car in the parking lot, the two of them keeping a respectable distance between them. As far as anybody knew, Yuri was just giving Layla a ride home, as he had done plenty of times in the past. Nothing out of the ordinary.

         As usual, they didn't say much on the drive to his apartment, Layla only mentioning a couple of small changes she wanted to make to their trapeze act in _Rapunzel_. Yuri nodded his agreement but admittedly wasn't paying much attention due to Layla's hand rubbing up and down his thigh.

         The moment they were finally behind closed doors, they began kissing, Yuri guiding Layla in the direction of his bedroom. There was no need to pretend that it was anything than what it was. The two of them stripped out of their clothes and tumbled into his unmade bed, hands stroking each other's bodies as they devoured each other's mouths.

         By that point in their "arrangement", Yuri knew Layla's body well enough to know the best ways to bring her to orgasm. Penetration was rarely enough on its own. He slid his fingers down her stomach, aiming for in between her legs, but to his mild surprise, she reached for his wrist and brought his hand back up to her chest.

         His thumb traced circles around her nipple. "Tell me what you want, Layla," he said, his lips leaving hers as he trailed kisses along her jawline. He would let her take the lead this time.

         "Your tongue." Layla let out a small gasp as he licked the shell of her ear, her fingers roaming upwards to tangle in his hair. "I want your head in between my thighs," she continued in a breathless voice, "and I want you to fuck me with your mouth until I scream."

         Yuri pulled back a little, raising an eyebrow at her use of such vulgar language, so contrary to the ladylike image she portrayed to the world, but he couldn't deny it was a definite turn-on. As Layla spread her legs in invitation, he climbed in between them and smirked, his eyes drinking in the sight of her completely exposed. "That can be arranged."

         He started at her sternum, lightly kissing the valley between her breasts. Layla let go of her hold on his neck and raised her arms above her head, taking long, relaxing breaths as Yuri's mouth took its time moving downward. He intended to draw out the anticipation for as long as possible, teasing her until she begged for release.

         "Yuri…" she moaned, her breaths becoming heavier as his lips neared her navel. Her hands once again tangled in his hair, attempting to push him even lower.

         Yuri smiled, flicking his tongue over her belly-button in preview of what was to come. Layla let out a sound between a gasp and a cry, her hips bucking a little underneath him.

         He took that as a sign that she was ready and started shifting down when Layla suddenly let go of his hair and jerked into a half-sitting position, propping herself on her elbows.

         "What was that?"

         Yuri continued what he was doing. "What…was…what?" he asked between kisses down Layla’s flat abdomen, pretending he hadn’t heard the faint ringing noise that had caught her attention.

         "I think you have a visitor," she said. "Shouldn’t you go see who it is?’

         "Just ignore it. I’m not expecting anyone. They’ll go away eventually."

         "But, Yuri…"

         Attempting to distract her, Yuri turned his attention to her raised knee, landing open-mouthed kisses along the inside of her thigh, but it was clear the previous mood between them was broken, Layla barely reacting to his touch. To be honest, the ringing was beginning to annoy him as well.

         "Damn, they are persistent. Get a freakin’ clue already!"

         "Yuri, just go answer it," Layla said. "I don’t think they plan to leave until you do.

         "Fine," he huffed, climbing off of bed and grabbing his discarded jeans from the floor. "I’ll be back in a minute. Don’t move."

         Yuri pulled his jeans back on and zipped up his fly just before pushing the correct button on his intercom in the living room. Though he was prepared to give whoever it was a piece of his mind, he froze in shock when the image of an attractive forty-something woman – although she insisted she was "only thirty-nine" –  appeared on the screen.

         "Took you long enough to answer, Yuri. Were you sleeping?" the woman asked with just the faintest trace of a Russian accent.

         "Uh, yeah…" Yuri lied, still trying to wrap his head around her sudden presence in Cape Mary. He blinked a couple of times, wondering if he was dreaming. "Mama?"

         "Don’t just stand there, staring. Aren’t you going to buzz me in?"

         "Right. Of course. Sorry." Finally pulling himself out of his stupor, Yuri hit the button that would allow her to enter the building and opened the door to wait for her.

         A couple of minutes later, his mother arrived at his threshold, carrying a canvas bag full of groceries on one arm and lugging a large designer suitcase with the other. She beamed when she saw him, and Yuri stepped forward to help her with the suitcase. "Sorry again for taking so long to answer," he apologized, showing her inside the apartment. "I just wasn’t expecting you." His mother lived most of the time in New York, although she often traveled around the world for her work.

         "That’s why it’s called a surprise. I came to Los Angeles on business and thought I would take the opportunity to visit my only son while I was in the area." After setting the bag of groceries on the coffee table, she kissed Yuri on the cheek. "How are you, Yurochka? You haven’t been returning my calls lately."

         "Yeah, I’m sorry..." Yuri rubbed the back of his neck, ashamed to admit he had been ignoring her phone calls. Not really on purpose. The issue was due to the three hour time difference, she tended to call him when he was having sex with Layla, so he always turned off his cell. By the time he took Layla home and checked his messages, it was usually too late to be polite and return the call. "I meant to call you back. I’ve just been…busy."

         His mother frowned, brushing a strand of hair out of his eyes. "You haven’t been working too hard, have you? Your job is so dangerous. It’s not good if you are tired."

         "I’m fine, Mama," he said. "What about you? Anything new to report in your life?"

         She plopped down on the couch. "I broke up with Oleg," she announced, referring to her on-again/off-again live-in boyfriend for the past several years.

         Yuri resisted the urge to roll his eyes. The two of them broke up so often that it wasn’t even a surprise anymore. Every time it was the same old story. "Again? Mama, if you don’t want to marry him, then cut the poor guy loose for good and put him out of his misery. How many times have you rejected his proposal now?"

         "Oh, I don’t even know anymore. I think this was the fifth or sixth time?" She sighed, rubbing her left temple. "Why must that man always insist on ruining a good thing? We already lived together. Wasn’t that good enough?"

         "You love him, though," Yuri said, placing a comforting hand on her shoulder. "I know you do, and I don’t think Papa would mind if you got married again, if that is what is holding you back from saying ‘yes’. You deserve to be happy."

         She reached over and patted his hand. "Oh, Yurochka…"

         At that moment, the door to his bedroom opened, Yuri’s eyes widening as he realized in all the excitement that he had completely forgotten about Layla. She came out dressed only in his vintage Van Halen T-shirt, which was just long enough to cover the important parts…if she stood still and didn’t raise her arms too high.

         "Yuri, what is taking so long? You said – Oh!" Upon seeing his mother on the couch, Layla tugged at the hem and blushed.

         Yuri silently cursed his bad luck as his mother stood up and turned around to face Layla, a knowing smile on her lips.

         "Ah, it seems I came at a bad time," his mother said. "I didn’t realize Yuri was entertaining a guest."

         "Oh, no, we…"

         "Yuri, are you going to introduce us?"

         "Right." Composing himself, he said, "Mama, I’d like you to meet Layla. She’s my…uh, partner at Kaleido Stage. Layla, this is my mother. She’s in town for a few days and decided to visit."

         Layla stepped forward and offered her hand, having collected herself as well. "It’s very nice to meet you, Mrs. Killian," she said. There was a momentary look of confusion on his mother’s part at the use of her maiden name, but fortunately, Layla didn’t seem to notice. "I apologize for my appearance. I wasn’t expecting anybody else to be here."

         His mother smiled warmly, taking Layla’s hand. "No, I’m the one who must apologize. I showed up without calling first. And please, feel free to call me Elena." Turning to Yuri, she asked, "Why didn’t you tell me you had a girlfriend?"

         "She’s not –" he began, but Layla interrupted.

         "That would be my fault. Our relationship isn't exactly…public, for various reasons," she said. "We haven’t told anybody about it, so please don’t blame Yuri for keeping me a secret."

         Yuri ran a hand through his hair. What in the world was Layla doing, telling his mother that they were dating? She would have understood if they just told her the truth. She wasn’t the judgmental type.

         "I see. Well, if that is the case, my lips are sealed," his mother promised, picking up her bag of groceries. "I thought I would make some _solyanka_ for dinner tonight. Layla, you will join us? There will be plenty to go around."

         "I wouldn’t want to impose. I’m sure you and Yuri have a lot to catch up on," Layla replied, much to Yuri’s relief. The less time Layla and his mother spent together, the better, as far as he was concerned.

         His mother had other ideas. "It’s no imposition at all. In fact, I insist!" she said. "Yurochka, where is your kitchen? I should get started."

         With a sigh, Yuri took the bag from his mother and slung it over his shoulder. "Here, I’ll help you. You don’t know where everything is," he said, heading for the kitchen. Looking back, he said, "Layla, you should get dressed and let Macquarie know you won’t be home for dinner." It was clear that they wouldn’t be able to resume where they left off.

         "Okay."

         In the kitchen, Yuri set the bag on the island, letting his mother unpack the groceries while he pulled out a large soup pot, a skillet, and the other utensils he knew she would need. When he was a kid, he had often helped her make her famous _solyanka_ , so he already knew to fill the pot with ten cups of water and four tablespoons of beef base before bringing it to a boil. He then began shredding the cabbage while his mother expertly chopped the celery.

         "Layla seems like a lovely girl," she said. "How long have you been seeing her?"

         Yuri frowned, tearing off a leaf of cabbage with more force than necessary. "Look, Mama, there’s something I need to tell you about Layla," he said, switching over to Russian. He didn’t want to risk Layla understanding what they were saying if she happened to overhear them.

         "You sound so serious." She set down her knife, giving Yuri her full attention. "Don’t tell me she’s pregnant."

         "What? No, of course not."

         "Oh, thank goodness!" she said, bringing a hand to her chest. "You nearly gave me a heart attack. I’m far too young to be a grandmother."

         "Because you’re only thirty-nine, right?" he teased, to which she responded by lobbing a piece of celery at him.

         "Oh, hush, you." She resumed chopping the celery. "So if she isn’t pregnant, then what is it?"

         The moment of levity passed. "The thing is… Layla doesn’t know."

         "Know what, dear?"

         "About Papa. About how he died," Yuri said in a low voice. "She doesn’t even know that Yuri Killian is a stage name."

         Again, his mother stopped what she was doing. "So that’s why she called me Mrs. Killian instead of Mrs. Brass. I thought that was strange," she said. "But why keep it a secret? How can you have an honest relationship like that?"

         "It’s…just better this way."

         Pursing her lips, his mother gathered the cabbage and celery they had prepared and dumped it into the boiling water. "I suppose this means you still plan to destroy Kaleido Stage."

         Yuri crossed his arms, leaning back against the island. "Mama, can we please not talk about that? You know all we ever do is argue."

         "I just don’t understand why you are so fixated on revenge. You should be in art school. You used to have such a talent for painting. Doing the trapeze is not your passion. I know it isn’t, yet you insist on risking your life every time you go on that stage for the chance to hurt Kalos Eido."

         Whirling around, Yuri slapped his palms hard on the marble countertop. "Papa died because of him! He needs to pay!"  

         "And I don’t want you to end up like Papa!" she shouted, her voice cracking as she wiped away a tear with her hand. "Why can’t you understand that?"

         "Mama…" Walking over to the stove where she stood, Yuri wrapped his arms around his mother’s trembling shoulders.

         He did understand, but he couldn’t quit – not now. Not after what he had done to Sophie. It was too late to back out; he wouldn’t let Sophie’s death be in vain.

         "I’ve never blamed Kalos," she said in a softer voice than before. "Aaron made his own decision to attempt the Legendary Great Maneuver, knowing how dangerous it would be. It wasn’t Kalos's fault."

         "But –"

         "You’re right. Let’s not talk about this anymore." She pulled out of his embrace and lowered the heat to a simmer. "Go spend some time with Layla," she said, waving him away. "I have everything under control in here."

* * *

 

         "I won’t be home for dinner tonight… Yuri and I are checking out a new restaurant he heard about … No, it’s not a date, Macquarie… His original date backed out at the last minute, so he just asked me instead since the reservation was hard to get… Yes, I will be home by nine. I’ll see you later. Goodbye, Macquarie."

         Sighing, Layla flipped her phone close, unsure if Macquarie actually believed her or not. She was almost certain her loyal maid suspected something was going on between her and Yuri, although she hadn’t mentioned anything directly.

         She had already changed out of Yuri’s T-shirt and back into the much more modest dress she arrived in, so after one more glance in the mirror above his dresser to place her headband back in her hair, she headed back to the living room. Loud voices speaking a foreign language Layla didn’t understand – Russian? – caught her attention, coming from the direction of the kitchen.

         _Are they arguing?_ Layla wondered. She hoped it wasn’t because of her. Yuri’s mother had seemed kind enough to her face, but perhaps Elena had only been putting on an act, waiting until they were alone to tell Yuri how she really felt. In any case, it seemed rude to eavesdrop, so Layla decided to go out on the balcony to give them some privacy.

         The sun was just beginning to dip into the horizon, the sky painted in a canvas of golden yellows and fiery reds. In the distance, the lights were off at Kaleido Stage since there wasn’t a show playing that night, but the tent still made a majestic sight against the backdrop.  Layla smiled as she leaned against the railing, a light breeze tousling her hair; Yuri’s apartment really did have the best view.

         A few minutes later, she heard the glass door slide open, and Yuri joined her on the balcony. He didn’t say anything, just came up beside her and gripped the railing so hard that his knuckles turned white.

         "Is everything alright, Yuri?" Layla asked after a few moments passed. "I heard you and your mother arguing."

         "You did?" Sighing, Yuri relaxed his grip on the railing. "Sorry about that. I didn’t realize we were being so loud."

         "Do you want to talk about it?"

         "No, not really."

         "Oh, okay." Not knowing what else to do – dealing with other people’s emotions wasn’t her strong point – Layla turned to go back inside, but Yuri’s hand reached out for her arm, stopping her.

         "You don’t have to leave," he said. "I’m okay, really. We have the same damn fight every time we see each other." He chuckled, but there was nothing mirthful about his laugh. "You could say it has become a bit of a family tradition."

         "So it wasn’t about me?"

         "Is that what you thought?"       

         She shrugged, joining him once again at the railing. "The thought crossed my mind," she admitted. "I didn’t make the best first impression, after all."

         "Layla, my mother isn’t a prude. She knows I have sex."

         "Still… I’m sorry I let her believe we are secretly dating. I know it complicates things, but it just seemed…more appropriate than what we really are."

         "Fu–?"

         Layla gave him a pointed look, stopping him mid-word. "I told you not to call us that, Yuri."

         Yuri raised his hands in mock surrender. "Sorry, sorry! I forgot," he said, lowering his arms as he moved closer toward her. "Aren't you being hypocritical, though?" he teased, lightly bumping her elbow. "Just a little while ago, you were begging me to –"

         Layla flipped her hair over her shoulder. "That was bedroom talk," she said. "This is public talk."

         "I don't see anybody around, do you?" Yuri made a show of looking around. "Nope, it's safe," he said. "But, anyway, it’s fine. I don’t mind pretending I’m your boyfriend for a few days."

         "How long is she staying?"

         "I haven’t asked yet. I assume at least two or three days, since she’s in town on business."

         "What kind of job does she have?" she asked, curious. With Elena’s stunning looks and fashion sense, Layla assumed she must be a model or an actress – something along those lines.

         "She’s a celebrity stylist," Yuri said. "Mama has always been into fashion and giving makeovers, so she decided to turn it into a career. She’s pretty successful at it, too. Very in demand." He sounded quite proud of her, and Layla smiled.

         "I see. Is there anything else I should know?"

         "What do you mean?" he asked, turning to his side so that only one elbow remained on the railing.

         "I don’t know. If we’re going to pretend to be dating, we should probably know a little more about each other, right?" She sat down at the patio table, motioning for Yuri to join her. "To make it seem more legitimate?"

         "I guess, but I think you already know most of the important stuff about me," he said, straddling the other chair backwards. "You know my birthday. You know my mother’s _solyanka_ is my favorite food and that I love 70s rock…"

         "What about your childhood? Where did you grow up?"

         "L.A., mostly. I was born in Moscow, but we moved to the U.S. when I was still just a baby."

         "Just you and your mother?"

         There was a brief pause before he answered. "No. Papa, too." Yuri rested his folded arms on the back of the chair, his chin on top. "He was French, though."

         "So that’s the reason you’re fluent in both French and Russian," Layla said. "I always wondered. What does your father do?"

         Yuri’s eyes darkened. "Layla, don’t ask any more questions about my father," he said, his hands clenching into fists. "Don’t mention him in front of my mother, either."

         "But why? I don’t und—"

         "Just…don’t." His fingers relaxed, and he sighed, running a hand through his hair. "Please, just do me this one favor."

         "Okay, if it’s that important to you," she promised, frowning. "I won’t pry anymore about your father."

         But Layla had to admit she was curious as to why he was so reluctant to talk about his father. A divorce? If his parents had broken up on bad terms, that would explain why Yuri wouldn’t want to talk about him. She didn’t recall seeing a wedding band on Elena’s finger, either.

         "What about you?" Yuri asked. "What was your childhood like?"

         "Lonely," she admitted without thinking. Yuri glanced up, but she looked away, brushing her hair behind her ear.

         "Poor little rich girl?" he guessed, although there was nothing derisive or mocking about the tone of his voice.

         "I suppose that’s one way to put it, yes." Sighing, she placed her hands in her lap. "I…didn’t have many friends. None at all, really, except Macquarie."

         "Your maid?"

         "Pathetic, right?" Layla said, knowing what he must be thinking. "She wasn’t my maid back then, of course, although her mother worked for us. I think she forced Macquarie to play with me at first out of pity, but after…" Layla paused, her fingers digging into the skirt of her dress. Just as Yuri hadn’t wanted to talk about his father, her mother’s illness and subsequent death was still too raw for her to discuss, even so many years later. "Well, things happened, and we eventually became friends."

         "Layla…"

         At that moment, the glass door slid open, startling both of them.

         "Dinner’s almost ready," Elena announced, frowning when she saw Yuri. "Yuri, please go put a shirt on. I want this to be a _nice_ dinner."

         He rolled his eyes, but there was an affectionate smile on his lips as he pushed himself up from the chair. "Yes, Mama…"

         Whatever disagreement they had earlier seemed to be forgotten, Yuri tenderly kissing Elena on her temple before heading to his bedroom to change.

         While he was gone, Layla followed Elena back inside and offered to help her set the table, but she wouldn’t hear of it, shooing Layla away. So, instead, she took a seat on the couch and waited until Yuri came back out of his room, now dressed in slacks and a navy button-down shirt. Elena nodded her approval of his appearance and told them to come join her at the table.

         Though it was only a simple meal of soup and bread, Elena had set the table with what Layla assumed was Yuri’s best set of bowls and wine glasses. Three white tapered candles were placed in the middle of the round table, the flickering flames giving off a warm, cozy glow.

         "It looks and smells wonderful, M—I mean, Elena," Layla said, taking a seat in the chair Yuri had pulled out her.

         Elena smiled. "I do hope you like it. It’s one of Yuri’s favorites," she said, pouring wine in her and Yuri’s glasses.

         When she got to Layla’s, Yuri reached over and covered the top of the glass. "Mama, Layla is underage. She’s only eighteen."

         "Oh, right, I forgot you can die for your country at eighteen, but no drinking until you’re twenty-one. American laws are so…strange." That didn’t stop her from pouring a small amount in Layla’s glass anyway when Yuri moved his hand away. "But I won’t tell if you won’t," she said, giving Layla a conspiratorial wink. After setting the bottle aside, she then held up her own glass. "I’d like to make a toast. To new acquaintances and young love. _Budem zdorovy_!"

         Layla exchanged a look with Yuri, but he just shrugged his shoulders as if to say, "You were the one who said we were dating," and held up his own glass. " _Budem zdorovy_!"

         "Cheers," she echoed, and the three of them clinked their glasses together.

         Layla drank a little of the wine to be polite before setting the glass back down and tasting the soup. She had never eaten _solyanka_ before, but her eyes widened, and she involuntarily moaned as she experienced the complex combination of flavors in her mouth. It was unlike anything else she had ever tasted before, a mix of salty, sour, and spicy that didn’t sound appetizing at first, but somehow worked together in harmony.

         "Oh, my, this tastes incredible!" Layla said.

         Yuri nodded his agreement. "It does. Just like I remember it!"

         Elena beamed, basking in the compliments. "Thank you," she said, taking a sip of her wine before turning her attention to Layla. "So, Layla, how long have you and Yuri been dating? I asked him when we were in the kitchen, but I don’t believe he ever gave me an answer."

         "Oh, um…" She took another bite of the soup, giving herself a few moments to think of an answer. "About six or seven months?" She glanced over at Yuri, who subtly nodded his acceptance of her story, and continued, "Since the International Circus Festival. We were celebrating our win, and one thing led to another…" Her voice trailed off, deciding it best not to make their stories too detailed.

         "Of course. It’s only natural; Paris _is_ the city of love, after all," Elena said, sighing wistfully. "In fact, I was studying in Paris when I met and fell in love with Yuri’s fa—"

         Yuri suddenly began coughing.

         "Yurochka!"

         Alarmed, Elena started to stand, but Yuri held up a hand and took several large gulps of his wine. "I’m fine, Mama," he said once his coughing fit subsided. "Some food just went down the wrong pipe."

         "Don’t scare me like that!"

         "Sorry."

         Layla stared at Yuri, frowning because even if Elena hadn’t noticed, she knew he hadn’t been eating anything when he started coughing. He had obviously been faking, but why? Because Elena had mentioned his father? She had more questions than ever, but remembering her promise, she kept them to herself.

         "Layla, is something wrong?" Elena asked.

         She shook her head. "No, it’s nothing," she said, deciding to switch topics to a safer subject. "Yuri mentioned you’re a celebrity stylist? That sounds like a fun career. You must meet some interesting people."

         "Oh, the stories I could tell! I won’t name names, but a couple of years ago, I was getting this one starlet dressed for the Oscars, and…"

         That seemed to do the trick. Elena forgot all about trying to pry into Layla’s and Yuri’s "relationship", gossiping about the celebrities she had worked with in the past for the rest of dinner. Yuri hadn’t lied when he said she was successful. It seemed like she had dressed almost every current A-list star, and she had dirt on almost everyone, entertaining Layla and Yuri with stories of torrid affairs, secret drug deals, and botched plastic surgeries. Though Elena didn't name names when telling the more scandalous anecdotes, Layla had her suspicions based on context clues.

         "Oh, my, I’ve been such a – what’s the English word? – oh, right, a blabbermouth tonight," Elena said as the dinner winded down. She giggled, finishing off her third glass of wine. "I probably shouldn’t have drunk so much. Aaron always complained I talked too – Oops!" She slapped a hand over her mouth, her eyes widening as she looked over at Yuri. "Sorry, Yurochka. I forgot."

         Aaron? Was that Yuri’s father’s name?

         "It’s getting late," Yuri said, abruptly standing up. "Come on, Layla, I’ll drive you home."

         "Oh, okay." Layla wiped her mouth with her napkin and stood up as well. "Thank you for the lovely meal, Elena. It was delicious."

         "I’m glad you liked it," Elena said, walking them to the door, "but you’re not spending the night? Don’t feel you have to leave on my account. I don’t mind if you stay."

         "I can’t. My father is expecting me home." A lie, of course. Her father wasn’t even in the country at the moment, gone away on another one of his business trips.

         "Oh, right. I forgot your relationship is supposed to be a secret."

         "I’ll be back in about half an hour," Yuri said to his mother in a brusque voice. "You don’t need to wait up for me."

* * *

 

         Yuri expected Layla to ask about the mysterious "Aaron" his mother mentioned, but she never did. In fact, she didn’t say much of anything at all as he drove her back home, perhaps sensing his anger.

         He couldn’t believe his mother had let his father’s name slip out like that. If Layla discovered he was Aaron Brass’s son, his entire plan would be put into jeopardy. Hell, for all he knew, that might have been his mother’s goal all along. Considering how much she wanted him to give up his quest for revenge, Yuri wouldn’t put it past her to try to sabotage him.

         "Dammit," he muttered, running his hand through his hair.

         "Yuri, will you slow down?" Layla asked, speaking for the first time since they left his apartment. "You are going to get us both killed if you keep driving like this."

         He glanced down at the speedometer, surprised to discover he was going nearly twenty miles per hour over the posted speed limit. "Oh, sorry."

         As he decelerated the car down to the legal speed, Yuri drew in a long, deep breath to calm himself. There was no point in getting worked up when all Layla knew at the moment was his father’s first name. It was only a small clue; there had to be countless other Aarons out there. As long as she didn’t discover his original surname, his secret would be safe.

         He hoped.

         "What’s wrong?" Layla asked.

         He shook his head. "Nothing."

         "It doesn’t seem like nothing to me. Why did you suddenly want to leave? I thought we were having a good time."

         "I didn’t want to keep you out too late," he lied. "Macquarie is expecting you, right?"

         "Not until nine." It was only a little after eight when they left.

         "Oh." He hadn’t known that. "Well, since we have some time, do you want to pull over somewhere, pick up where we left off?"

         "I’m not really in the mood."

         Truthfully, neither was he. "I’ll just take you home, then."

         After dropping Layla off at the Hamilton estate, Yuri drove around the city, killing some time before heading back to his apartment. He hoped by the time he arrived home, his mother would have gone to bed, but no such luck. She stood up from her spot on the couch the second he walked through the door.

         "Yurochka…"

         Yuri sighed. "I told you that you didn’t need to wait up for me, Mama," he said, tossing his keys onto the tray he kept by the door. "I know you must still be on New York time."

         "Yuri, I’m sorry. His name just slipped out. You know how I get when I drink too much…"

         "Was it really just an accidental slip of the tongue?" he couldn’t resist asking. "Or did you mention Papa’s name on purpose?"

         Her eyes widened. "Of course not. Why would you accuse me of such a thing?"

         "Well, you’ve certainly made no secret that you disapprove of my plans concerning Kaleido Stage," he said bitterly, plopping down on the couch. "If anybody finds out that I’m Aaron Brass’s son, everything I’ve worked for these past few years will be for nothing."

         Joining him on the couch, his mother tucked her legs underneath her and rubbed his arm. "I wish you wouldn’t say such things," she said. "Look, I know I haven’t always been the most supportive of your choice of career or your reasons for pursuing it, but that doesn’t mean I’m not proud of everything you’ve achieved. Your father would be, too, if he was still alive." She sighed. "Oh, how I wish he could have seen you and Layla win at the International Circus Festival. He considered his own win at the Festival one of his greatest accomplishments, so to see you following in his footsteps…"

         "You’re wrong, Mama." Yuri clawed at the fabric of his pants, his stomach lurching at the memory of that moment. "Papa would have been so disappointed in me."

         "Yuri?"

         He shook his head. "Never mind," he said, standing up. "I think I’ll take a shower, then go to bed. It’s been a long day. Make sure to turn off the lights before you go to bed."

         "Wait." She reached for his hand, stopping him. "Did something happen at the Festival?"

         Yuri inhaled sharply. "I-I don't know what you mean."

         "Something's changed in you ever since you won," she said. "At first, I thought I was only imagining things, but –"

         "You're being a worrywart, Mama," he said, smiling as he turned back around to face her. "I'm the same as I've always been."

         "No, you're not. You used to tell me everything, but I didn't even know you had a girlfriend until today."

         "We explained that to you. Layla didn't want –"

         "It's not just that." Sighing, his mother rose to her feet and placed her hands on Yuri's cheeks. "You know you can tell me anything, right?" she said, a concerned look in her eyes. "If something happened or if you're in some kind of trouble…"

         Yuri glanced off to the side. A part of him wished he could confess to his mother about his involvement in Sophie Oswald’s untimely death, but his guilt was his to bear alone. No one could absolve him of the sin he committed that day.

         "Mama, I'm fine, really," he said, pulling her hands away from his face and giving them a gentle squeeze. "If I've been…distant lately, it's just because I've been really busy with Kaleido Stage and Layla. That's all."

         "If you say so…" Yuri could tell she didn't really believe him, though.

         "I'll see you in the morning," he said, kissing her on the forehead. "Good night, Mama."

         "Good night, my Yurochka."

* * *

 

         Not expecting her back until nine o’clock, Macquarie was surprised to see Layla home so early. Layla made up a story about Yuri not feeling well and needing to cut their dinner short, then headed upstairs to her bedroom.

         No matter what Yuri said in the car, Layla knew something had upset him, and all signs pointed to Elena’s mention of Aaron. She was almost positive that Aaron was the father Yuri refused to discuss, but why was he being so secretive about him? Despite her promise, her curiosity was too strong to ignore.

         Taking a seat at her computer, Layla pulled up Google and typed the name "Aaron Killian" in the search box. No results were found. To be on the safe side, she did a few more searches, using every possible alternative spelling of Aaron that came to mind: Aron, Arin, Aren, Aarin, Aaren, Arron, Arren, Arrin, Eren, Eron. She even tried Erin, despite that spelling being more popular for girls, but there was nobody with that name with the surname Killian.

         "Maybe Aaron’s last name is different?" she mused aloud.

         Assuming her theory that Elena and Aaron had divorced was correct, it was possible that Elena went back to her maiden name, or she may never have changed her name in the first place. Perhaps Yuri had taken her name as well, as a way of cutting ties with his father. Or maybe Elena and Aaron had never married in the first place and Yuri had been given his mother’s name at birth.

         Layla frowned and decided to switch tactics, searching for "Elena Killian" instead. Since Elena was such a successful stylist, Layla knew she was bound to get a lot of hits. If she was lucky, maybe she would even come across an interview or a profile that mentioned Aaron.

         However, the few sites that came up during her search were all in Russian, and thus, unreadable to her.

         "That’s strange… She should be mentioned in some fashion magazines, at least."

         Layla leaned back in her chair, thinking back to earlier. She had assumed his mother’s last name was Killian like Yuri’s without question, but Elena had never actually mentioned her surname, had she? Then again, she hadn’t corrected Layla when she called her Mrs. Killian either…

         In any case, there was no record of Elena Killian on any English website, so that avenue of investigation was blocked as well.

         That just left Yuri himself, although Layla was beginning to think Yuri Killian was just a stage name. It wasn’t uncommon in their line of work, after all, and it would explain why neither of his parents seemed to share his surname. To check, she typed in Yuri’s name. She got lots of hits about his work at Kaleido Stage and a handful of fansites, but as she suspected, nothing from before he joined the company. It was as if Yuri Killian had just suddenly appeared in the world a couple of years ago.

         "Dammit."

         She sighed, closing out of the browser. She had hit the final dead end. Without knowing Yuri’s real name, it was impossible to find out anything more.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: Kaleido Star doesn't belong to me.
> 
> AUTHOR'S NOTES: Sorry it's taken a while to update. I've been working on a story for an exchange event in another fandom, so everything else has been on the backburner. I'd love to tell you I'll be back on schedule starting next month, but we're going to be moving sometime in the next few weeks, so everything is up in the air at the moment. Don't worry, though. Even if updates do become sporadic, I fully intend to finish this story (and maybe even write a sequel). I hope you enjoy this longer-than-usual chapter in the meantime!
> 
> Feel free to follow me on Tumblr at https://kaleidodreams.tumblr.com/.


	6. Chapter 6

         Yuri awoke the next morning to the aroma of fresh coffee.

         Yawning, he padded to the kitchen and found his mother already awake, drinking a cup of coffee at the island. Though Yuri was still a little annoyed at her for what had happened at dinner the night before, he decided to forgive her. Alcohol did have a tendency to loosen her lips, and Layla was unlikely to learn anything damaging with just the knowledge of his father’s first name anyway.

         "'Morning, Mama," he greeted her, kissing the back of her head. "Did you sleep okay?"

         She winced. "Oh, Yurochka, please don’t talk so loud," she said, rubbing at her temple. "Mama has a pounding headache."

         Yuri rolled his eyes but walked over to the cabinet where he kept his stock of over-the-counter medicine and shook out a couple of aspirin from the bottle. It wasn’t the first time he had to deal with one of her hangovers. "Here, take these."

         "Bless you!" She popped the pills into her mouth and washed them down with the rest of her coffee. "Next time, remind me that two glasses of wine is my limit."

         "Will do."

         He prepared himself a bowl of cold cereal while his mother helped herself to another cup of coffee, dumping several spoonfuls of sugar into the Kaleido Stage mug.

         "What time do you think you’ll be home tonight?" she asked. "I was thinking of making beef stroganoff for dinner."

         "Probably around seven, but you don’t need to make dinner every night, Mama. You’re supposed to be a guest."

         "I don’t mind. You know I like to cook," she said, leaning against the counter as she took a sip of her coffee. "Will Layla be coming over?"

         "No. She already has plans." It was a lie as far as he knew, but Yuri had already decided that he would not invite Layla back to his apartment until after his mother left. The last thing he needed was for her to make any more accidental slip-ups in front of Layla.

         "Oh, that’s a shame. I was looking forward to getting to know her better, especially since I ended up talking so much about myself last night." She paused, tilting her head to the side. "What about lunch? I’ll be finished with my shoot around 1:30. You two should come to L.A. I just heard about this trendy new sushi restaurant. We could go check it out, my treat."

         "I don’t think we’ll have time," Yuri said, frowning. "Why are you so interested in Layla, anyway?" She had never showed much interest in any of his previous girlfriends. Then again, he rarely introduced her to the girls he dated, never feeling the need when he knew the relationship was unlikely to last.

         "Is it that strange for a mother to want to get to know her son’s girlfriend?"

         "No, but –"

         "Things seem pretty serious between you two. I don’t think you’ve ever had a relationship last more than a couple of months." She smiled. "I’m so happy for you, Yurochka. It’s wonderful that you finally found somebody."

         Yuri sighed, swirling his spoon around his bowl without taking a bite. He needed to clear up the awkward situation Layla had put him in. Pretending to be her boyfriend had been fine for a night, but he didn’t want his mother to get too invested in the idea of their "relationship". It sounded like she was already becoming attached to Layla.

         "Mama… Uh, about that…"

         "What is it?"

         "Layla isn’t actually my girlfriend," he admitted.

         His mother’s blue eyes widened as she set her mug back down on the counter. "What do you mean? Did you two break up last night?" Walking over to the island where he sat, she cupped his head between her hands, a sympathetic look in her gaze. "Oh, Yurochka…"

         Yuri pulled her hands away. "No, what I meant is that she never was my girlfriend in the first place. We just…" He rubbed the back of his neck. "Well, we just sleep together, sometimes. That’s all."

         "I see." Her face unreadable, she took a seat on the stool beside him. "Why lie to me about it, though? I don’t understand."

         "Layla didn’t want you to think badly of her."

         "Oh."

         "I’m sorry for lying to you, Mama," he said, reaching over to squeeze one of her hands.

         "No, it’s fine, it’s fine." She pulled her hand from his grasp and frowned. "So, why _aren’t_ you two dating?"

         After taking a bite of his cereal, Yuri cocked an eyebrow. "What kind of a question is that?"

         "A perfectly reasonable one, I think," she said. "I mean, you _are_ in love with her, aren’t you?"

         He almost choked on his next spoonful, covering his mouth with his hand and coughing. "No, of course not. Why would you even think that?"

         His mother smirked, resting her chin on her hand. "I do have eyes, Yuri," she said. "I saw the looks you were giving Layla last night. It reminded me of the way your father used to look at me."

         "You’re imagining things, Mama." Having lost his appetite, Yuri got up and dumped the rest of his soggy cereal in the garbage. "Layla and I… We’re just friends."

         "Who sleep together? Oh, Yuri, you know I’ve always been open-minded, but that just sounds like a recipe for disaster."

         She was probably right, but Yuri wasn’t about to admit it. "It’s fine. We’re both satisfied with the arrangement."

         "Maybe for now, but –"

         He had heard enough.

         "I need to get going," he said, placing his dirty bowl in the sink. "I’ll see you later, Mama."

* * *

 

         After morning practice, Layla retired to her dressing room, draping herself across the couch as she thought back to her research last night into Yuri’s mysterious past. It bothered her more than she liked to admit that he never told her that Yuri Killian was only his stage name.

         She wasn’t his girlfriend, despite what they led Elena to believe, but weren’t they at least close enough friends for her to know something as basic as his legal name? Of course, it was possible that he had legally changed his name to Yuri Killian when he joined Kaleido Stage. She hadn’t thought of that possibility, but the point still stood.

         She wished she could just ask him about it, but doing so would reveal the fact that she had been investigating into his family. Layla doubted Yuri would be happy if he found out, especially considering how secretive he was about his father, the mysterious Aaron.

         A soft knock on the door interrupted her thoughts.

         "Coming!" Layla walked over to the door and opened it, unsurprised to see Yuri standing in the hall. "Oh, hey," she said, pushing a strand of hair behind her ear. "Come in."

         She didn’t need to ask why he had come. As soon as Layla closed the door behind her, Yuri pinned her up against it and kissed her.

         Whatever concerns Layla had about Yuri’s family secrets flew out of her mind, her body automatically reacting to his touch. It was scary how much she wanted him sometimes, craved him like a drug-addicted junkie looking for a fix. She moaned as his thumb slipped underneath the elastic band of her sports bra, caressing the area of skin just below her breasts, and her fingers grabbed at the hem of his T-shirt, tugging it upwards until Yuri lifted up his arms and allowed her to pull it off of him.

         Layla’s eyes roamed over his bare torso, her hands slithering over his chest and arms. Yuri placed his hands on the small of her back, pulling her closer toward him, and she embraced him, taking in the musky, masculine scent of his skin. Neither of them had showered after practice, but after performing together for so long, the smell of sweat no longer bothered them. In fact, Layla found it rather a turn-on.

         His hands wandered lower, cupping her buttocks. Her arms wrapped securely around his neck, he lifted her up, Layla hooking her legs around his hips as Yuri carried her over to the couch. He set her down, her head propped up by the arm of the sofa, and climbed on top of her, burying his face in the crook of her neck. His pelvis grinded against her, letting her feel his growing erection even through the fabric of their pants.

         It was all kind of high school – or rather how Layla imagined horny virgin high school couples behaved. She didn’t have any personal experience to draw on, having never gone to high school herself. Starting from 7th grade, she had convinced her father to hire her a private tutor to take care of her education so that she could focus more on her acrobatic and dance training. She had found the elite private girls’ school her father forced her to attend a bore anyway, so she hadn’t considered it much of a sacrifice.

         She wondered what Yuri was like in high school. She had a feeling he probably had been _very_ popular with the girls.

         Layla uncharacteristically giggled as Yuri’s hand slid underneath the fabric of her sports bra, groping her left breast.

         "Something funny?" Yuri asked, speaking for the first time since he arrived.

         "No, I was just imagining what you were like in high school. I bet you were voted homecoming king."

         Yuri smiled. "Well, I went to a performing arts high school, so sports weren’t really a thing," he said. "I was nominated for prom king, though."

         "You didn’t win?"

         "No."

         "Why not?"

         He shrugged. "Who knows? I didn’t really care anyway. It was just a silly popularity contest," he said, yanking up her bra to expose her breasts.

         Layla sighed with pleasure as Yuri bent his head downward and took one of her nipples in his mouth. He continued grinding against her, and she felt a familiar pressure building in between her legs which grew stronger as she moved her hips in rhythm with his. The fabric of her leggings provided just the right amount of friction brushing against her clitoris to send her over the edge.

         "Ah!"

         With a gasp, she climaxed – not as strongly as when Yuri penetrated her with his cock, finger, or tongue, but still very enjoyable.

         It would do…for the first one.

         She pushed him off of her, Yuri moving to sit on the other end of the couch while Layla straddled his thighs. She then wrapped her fingers around the fabric of her pink sports bra and finished tugging it over her head, tossing it in the direction of her clothes hamper. It fell in easily, not even touching the rim.

         "Impressive," Yuri said.

         Layla smirked. "I should say the same thing about you," she teased, looking down at his crotch. His erection was fully visible, straining against the fabric of his pants.

         "What do you plan to do about it?" It sounded more like a dare than a question.

         "Hmm…" She placed her palm against his chest and slowly slid her hand downward. Yuri sucked in his breath as her fingers brushed against his package, but she didn’t stop there, continuing further down his thigh, then travelling back up again until she found his hardness once again. Undoing his fly, Layla slipped her hand inside and rubbed him through his boxer briefs until Yuri could take no more.

         Breathing heavily, he pulled her hand away. "Condom."

         Layla smiled, giving him a lingering kiss on the lips before climbing off of him and beginning to walk over to her vanity where she kept her stash of condoms. Halfway there, she glanced back over her shoulder at Yuri, pleased to see that his eyes were glued to her backside. She stopped where she was and hooked her thumbs into the waistband of her leggings, pulling them downwards and kicking them aside. She then continued toward the vanity, rummaging in the second drawer until she found one of the loose foil packets.

         By that time, Yuri had come up behind her, licking the shell of her ear as he reached around and snatched the condom out of her hand. She heard the foil crinkle as he tore the package open, and she bit down on her bottom lip as she placed her palms against the vanity’s top and bent forward. Yuri’s cock slid inside her with ease as he gripped her hips, entering her from behind.

         Her eyes met his in the reflection of the vanity’s mirror, a slight smirk on her lips as Yuri began pounding inside her. She had to admit, it was an incredibly erotic sight to watch herself being fucked. Her breasts jiggled with almost every thrust, and she enjoyed the view of Yuri’s face over her shoulder, contorting in pleasure.

         After a while, one of Yuri’s hands left its spot on her hip, moving temporarily to fondle a breast before sliding down her abdomen and in between her legs. Layla moaned when he found her clitoris, his fingertip lightly circling the sensitive nub. She had already been close to climax, but with the addition of his finger, she quickly lost control, her entire body trembling from the force of her orgasm. Though she usually tried not to be too loud whenever they had sex at Kaleido Stage, Layla couldn’t stop herself from crying out in ecstasy.

         As the waves of bliss finally faded away, she slumped forward, a heavily-breathing Yuri leaning against her back. She hadn’t noticed, so consumed by her own orgasm, but he must have come, too. The two of them stayed like that for a long moment until she felt Yuri lift his weight off of her, allowing Layla to stand back up and turn around.

         "That was…yeah…" Yuri ran a hand through his hair, at a loss for words.

         Layla nodded her agreement. They would definitely have to try doing that again sometime.

         Grabbing her white silk robe from the back of her vanity chair, she pushed her arms through the sleeves and loosely tied the belt around her waist. "So, is Elena coming to the show today?" she asked conversationally, sitting down at her vanity and letting her long hair loose from the ponytail it was styled in.

         "Nope," Yuri said, pulling his pants back on.

         "Oh. Does she have to work late?"

         "No."

         Layla frowned, twisting around her chair to look at Yuri. She was accustomed to her father not attending her shows due to his hectic work schedule, but why wouldn’t Elena come to see Yuri perform if she had the time? "Did you two have another argument?" she asked, making a random guess.

         "I wouldn't call it an argument, exactly, but…." Sighing, he pulled his T-shirt over his head and yanked it down. "I told her the truth about us."

         "What? Why?"

         "Because it was wrong to lie to her."

         "Oh." It was tough to argue against that. Layla regretted she had put him in that position in the first place.

         "Don’t worry, she still likes you," Yuri said, smiling. "In fact, she –"

         "What?"

         Losing his smile, he shook his head. "No, it’s nothing."

         Layla was curious to know what he had been about to say, but decided it was probably best not to pry. "You should invite Elena to tomorrow’s show as an apology," she suggested instead, turning her attention back to the mirror and reaching for her brush. "It would be a shame if she didn’t get to see you on stage before she goes back home, and I should probably apologize to her as well. It was my idea to lie to her, after all."

         _Plus, if I talk to her, I might be able to learn more about Aaron,_ she thought, immediately feeling guilty for even thinking it. Still, her curiosity was too great, and if Elena just happened to mention him again…

         "She wouldn’t come even if I invited her," Yuri finally admitted after a short pause. "Mama doesn’t like to watch me perform on the trapeze."

         "She doesn’t? But why?"

         He shrugged, stuffing his hands into the pockets of his sweatpants. "She gets scared, I guess, but it’s no big deal. I don’t mind." He tried to sound nonchalant, but Layla sensed there was more to the story than Yuri was telling her. "She’s flaying back to New York tomorrow morning, anyway. I’m driving her to the airport, so I’ll probably be little late for practice."

         "That’s fine. Of course," Layla said.

         "Thanks. Anyway, I'm going to work on my Corde Lisse some more, so see you later."

* * *

 

         From his spot in the wings, Yuri glanced out into the audience. It was yet another sold-out performance. The publicity from the kiss had done its job. Today's show would mark the end of six weeks of performances with no signs of closing any time soon. It still annoyed him that the kiss was overshadowing everything else about the production despite him and Layla making changes to better their routines, but it looked like she was going to get her wish of a two-month run after all.

         "Do you see her?" Layla asked, coming up behind him and looking over his shoulder.

         Though he knew exactly who she was referring to, Yuri played dumb, crossing his arms over his chest. "Who?"

         "Elena."

         He turned around, frowning. "I told you, she’s not coming."

         "Yet you still look for her, don't you?" she asked. Letting out a sigh, Layla hugged herself. "I’m the same way, you know. Whenever I know my father is in town, I hope to see him in the audience, but he never comes. Too busy with work, I suppose."

         He’d noticed, of course, that Mr. Hamilton never attended any of their shows despite owning the biggest share in Kaleido Stage. Mr. Kenneth, the other major investor, made a point of attending every opening night and sometimes even the occasional random performance, so Mr. Hamilton’s lack of appearances stood out even more. Yuri had always wondered why he never came, considering that he always seemed so proud of his daughter in public, but Layla had never brought up the subject herself until that moment. Though she tried to act like it was no big deal, he could tell that her father's continued absences bothered her more than she let on.

         "Layla…"

         As if on its own volition, his hand started to reach for her. At the last moment, however, Yuri pulled back, coughing into his fist when he saw a stagehand passing by with a part of somebody's costume.

         "I was just checking out the crowd. It looks like a good audience," he said. "It’s almost time for the show to start. You should get into position."

         She nodded. "Let’s put on a great show."

         While Layla prepared to begin her opening silks routine, Yuri looked one more time out into the audience. He had to admit, it would be nice for his mother to see at least one of his performances, but even if she had wanted to attend, he wouldn’t have allowed it. It was far too risky. If Kalos, Sarah, or any of the crew members who had worked at Kaleido Stage from the start recognized her as Aaron Brass’s widow, it wouldn’t take much for them to connect the dots and realize he was Aaron’s son.

         He was about to prepare for his own opening number when a woman walking down the aisle to a seat in the fifth row caught his eye, his blood running cold. _No, it couldn't be…_

         Her hair was hidden underneath a curly brown wig, and she was wearing the black-framed glasses that she only used when she needed a break from contacts, her face otherwise bare of her ever present make-up, but Yuri still recognized her even through her disguise.

         What the hell was his mother doing at Kaleido Stage?

         His hand reached for his pocket, Yuri cursing when he remembered that he was already in costume, his phone safely locked away in his dressing room as it usually was during performances. Even if he had his phone on him, his mother had probably already turned hers off so not to be distracted during the show.

         It was worth a shot anyway. Ignoring Ken's warning that the show was about to begin – he didn't appear on stage until the third scene, anyway, giving him about a ten minute window – Yuri hurried back to his dressing room and called his mother's number. It rang three times before going to voicemail.

         "Dammit!"

         He flipped the phone close and slammed it down on the vanity. What on Earth possessed her to come to the show? After his father's death, she couldn't even bear attending a Kaleido Stage performance, claiming the memories too painful for her. The possibility that she might come to today's show never even crossed his mind.

         Was it Layla's doing? Had she invited his mother behind his back in some misguided belief that he felt the same that she did?

         "Yuri, you're on in five minutes," Ken said, knocking on the door. "Should your understudy prepare to go on instead?"

         "No, I'm coming."

         Yuri took in a couple of deep breaths, calming himself down. After all, there was nothing he could do about his mother now. At least she had been smart enough to come in disguise. As long as she didn't draw any undue attention to herself, it was unlikely she would be recognized by Kalos or any of the veterans after so many years.

         He took a moment to fix his hair, then headed backstage, Ken following after him. "Are you sure you're okay to go on?" the stage manager asked.

         "I'm fine," he said with a dismissive wave. "Just needed a bathroom break."

         Yuri pushed his concerns out of mind as he took the stage on his ridiculous "horse".

         It wasn't his best performance. He missed a couple of cues, hyperaware every time Sarah faced the audience to sing, but he managed to cover them up well enough. Only Layla seemed to notice, asking if he was okay during the short intermission. He insisted he was fine and doubled his efforts to concentrate only on the show during the second half.

         After taking their final bows, Yuri grabbed Layla by the wrist. "We need to talk."

         "Yuri, wh—"

         Without giving her an explanation, Yuri pulled Layla backstage and looked around for somewhere that might provide them with a little privacy. There wasn't really any place like that, though, as the tech crews broke down sets and performers ran through their cool down exercises.

         "My dressing room," he decided, as it was closer than hers.

         He led her to his room and locked the door behind them, not wanting to risk anyone walking in on their conversation. Layla arched an eyebrow when he turned around to face her.

         "You want to go for another round?" she asked, reaching for the hook of her skirt. "I don't mind, but –"

         "This has nothing to do with sex," he interrupted. He was hardly in the mood. "Did you have anything to do with that little stunt out there?"

         Layla let go of her hold on the skirt, smoothing it back down, and tilted her head to the side. "What are you talking about?"

         "Don't act coy. You asked me if I had seen my mother in the audience."

         "Elena came to see the show? But I thought you said it scared her to see you perform. That's wonderful. You must be thrilled."

         "No, it's n—" He rubbed at his temple. "Never mind. Were you the one who invited her?"

         "How could I? I don't have any of her contact information."

         "You really had nothing to do with it?"

         "Of course not," Layla said, looking at him with a confused expression. "Yuri, is something wrong? Aren't you happy your mother came to see you? I noticed you seemed a bit…distracted on stage."

         Yuri sighed, running a hand through his hair. "It's…complicated," he said, unable to think of anything else to say without compromising his cover. "Never mind. Don't worry about it. Do you have anyone to drive you home tonight?"

         "Yes, I told my driver to pick me up since I assumed you would want to spend some time with Elena."

         "Good." One less thing he had to worry about.

         "Speaking of which, I should probably get changed before Henry arrives," she said, walking over to the door. "I'll see you tomorrow. Tell Elena goodbye for me, and let her know I'm sorry for lying to her yesterday."

         "I will."

         Once Layla left, Yuri shut the door behind her and pulled out his phone, hoping that his mother had turned hers back on. Luck was on his side; she answered on the second ring.

         "Yurochka! What a –"

         "My apartment, twenty minutes," he said. "I'll meet you there."

* * *

 

         The moment she arrived home, Layla headed upstairs to her room and sat down at her computer.

         She still didn’t know Yuri’s birth name, but after he had left her dressing room that afternoon, it occurred to her that she did know some facts that could prove useful in discovering who he really was. The night before he had told her that he grew up in Los Angeles, and today he mentioned he had attended a performing arts high school. Doing some quick calculations based on his birthday, he most likely graduated in 1998. It wasn’t a ton to go on, but maybe she would find something.

         It helped that Yuri was such an unusual name. It might have been common in Russia where he was born, but it definitely stood out as unique in America. Hopefully, he had only changed his surname.

         She pulled up Google and typed the keywords "Yuri", "Los Angeles, California", "class of 1998", and the name of the most prestigious performing arts school in L.A. into the search box. Some results came up, but her triumph was short-lived when she realized that they all referred to a female Japanese-American violinist.

         Layla wasn’t ready to give up, though. There were several performing arts high schools in the Los Angeles area; he may have attended one of those instead. She performed a quick search for a list of school names and plugged them into her previous inquiry.

         "Bingo!"

         The third school she tried provided the result she was looking for. She clicked on a link to a review of a play the school had put on and smiled at the picture of a teenaged Yuri in costume that accompanied the article. He was incredibly cute even back then. Underneath the photo, the caption read: _Senior Yuri Brass, 17, gives a riveting performance as John Proctor in the school’s fall production of "The Crucible"._

          "So his real name is Yuri Brass," Layla said to herself, frowning. That name seemed vaguely familiar, although she was certain she had never met Yuri before he joined Kaleido Stage. "Yuri Brass… Brass… Brass… Aaron Brass…"

         She gasped, the name ringing a bell. Was it possible…? Kneeling beside her bed, Layla reached underneath until she felt the corner of a box. She pulled the box out and took a seat on the edge of the mattress, lifting up the lid to see inside.

         The box contained all of her most treasured mementos, among them an old Kaleido Stage program for a production of _Alice in Wonderland_. It was the first Kaleido Stage show she ever saw, the one that inspired her dream to become a Kaleido Star, just like her idol Donna Walker, who had played the title role.

         Layla quickly found the program and flipped to the cast list. Sure enough, Aaron Brass was listed right underneath Donna’s name. Yuri favored his mother more in looks, but it wasn't hard to see a family resemblance between him and the man pictured next to the name.

         "Yuri’s father is THE Aaron Brass?"

         She couldn’t believe it. Though her attention had been mostly held by Donna during the show, she remembered Aaron in the role of the White Rabbit. He had been amazing as well, so strong and powerful with a natural charisma that reminded her of Yuri.

         No wonder Yuri had decided to use a stage name when he joined Kaleido Stage. It would be tough to live up to Aaron Brass’s legacy. He had been one of best trapeze artists in the world, a former International Circus Festival winner, and the very first Kaleido Star – not to mention, one of the original founders.

         But…

         Layla set the program aside, bringing a hand to her mouth.

         Aaron Brass had died shortly after the production ended under mysterious circumstances. No official cause of death was ever released, although the most common rumor was that he fell while attempting an incredibly dangerous, mystical maneuver.

         "Oh, Yuri…"

         It made sense now, why he didn't like talking about his father and why his mother had avoided attending Yuri's shows until tonight.     Sighing, Layla drew her legs up to her chest, wrapping her arms around her knees. Poor Yuri. She knew very well the pain of losing a parent. Not a day went by when she didn't think of her late mother, the ache dulled by time, but never forgotten.

         If only she had known… Layla shook her head. What was she even thinking? Her relationship with Yuri wasn’t like that. They were physically intimate, but that was all. It wasn't as if she had been open about her mother's death either, so she couldn't blame him for not confiding in her. She really should have respected Yuri's wishes in the first place and not gone digging into things that weren't any of her business.

         After putting the program back in the box, Layla slid it back under her bed. She would just have to do her best to forget about everything she had learned.

* * *

 

         His mother arrived back at the apartment ten minutes after Yuri. She let herself in with the emergency key he had loaned her, carrying a couple of bags. Though she had taken off her wig and glasses, her face was still bare of make-up, her blonde hair pulled back in a messy ponytail.

         "Sorry I'm late," she said breezily, heading straight to the kitchen. "I ran to the store to pick up some last-minute things for dinner and it took forever to find a ca—"

         Yuri followed after her. "Did anybody recognize you?" he asked, getting straight to the point.

         "At the grocery store?" She laughed as she began unloading the contents of one of the bags onto the island. "I dress celebrities for a living, Yurochka. That doesn't mean I am one. Well, unless one of the cable networks wants to give me my own show…"

         "No, at Kaleido Stage," he said, crossing his arms as he leaned back against the counter.

         "Ah." She set a bottle of wine down on the island. "So, you saw through my disguise," she said, not even trying to deny it.

         "Mama, you knew how risky that was! If anybody recognized you…"

         "But they didn't! I walked right in front of Kalos Eido and he didn't even give me a second look."

         "Kalos saw you?" Yuri took a seat at the island, rubbing at his forehead.

         "I told you, he had no idea who I was. It's been years since we last saw each other. I wouldn't be surprised if he forgot what I even look like."

         "That's not the point, Mama!" he shouted, unable to contain his anger any longer. "What if he had remembered? Or Sarah? Or Jean?"

         "Yurochka…" Coming up behind him, his mother moved to wrap her arms around his shoulders, but Yuri shrugged her off.

         "Don't." He stood up, the legs of the stool scraping against the hardwood floor. "I need some air," he said, too furious to talk to her at the moment.

         Yuri left the kitchen and headed out to the balcony. The night air was surprisingly chilly for summer, a light breeze tousling his hair. He took a couple of deep breaths to calm himself, staring up at the starry sky above.

         After a while, he heard the sound of the slider opening behind him, his mother joining him out on the balcony. She came up beside him, leaning against the railing, neither of them speaking until she decided to break the ice.

         "For the record, it really was a wonderful show," she said, resting her head on his shoulder.

         "Don't lie, Mama. The show's crap, and everybody knows it." Yuri sighed. "If I could have chosen a show for you to come see, it would have been _Romeo & Juliet_."

         "No, I don't like tragedies. I've experienced enough in my life. Give me a 'happy ever after' any day."

         Yuri turned his head, kissing the top of her hair. That was true enough. His anger from earlier had mostly faded away, but there was something he still didn't understand. "Why did you come to tonight's performance? After Papa died…"

         His mother's posture straightened, her eyes gazing out at the Kaleido Stage tent in the distance. The lights were still on, a festive sight against the dark sky. "It was too hard, back then, the scars too fresh," she said in a soft voice. "But he loved Kaleido Stage, and I did, too. Your father was never happier than when he was standing on a stage. He was so proud of the company he and Kalos created..."

         Her voice trailed off, and for a moment, Yuri feared she would once again try to convince him to give up his plans for revenge, starting yet another round of their never-ending argument. It was her last night in town; he didn't want to spend it fighting even more than they already had.

         "You know, I attended your debut performance, too," she revealed instead.

         "What?" He looked over at her, his eyes widening. "You never told me that."

         "I left during the intermission," she admitted. "I-I got scared, watching you perform such death defying stunts. I was so afraid I would lose you like I lost Aaron."     

         Yuri reached for her hand, which was gripping the railing so tightly that her knuckles were turning white, and gave it a light squeeze.

         "But I promised myself that one day I was going to stay through a full performance," she continued. "I'm glad I finally got the chance. You really did inherit your father's talent." 

         Shaking his head, Yuri released his hold on her hand. "I'm only a pale imitation of Papa," he said, unable to hide the trace of bitterness in his voice. "When Papa took the stage, nobody could take their eyes off him. Now it's Layla who everyone comes to see."

         "There certainly is something special about that girl. She lights up the stage, like she was born to perform in front of an audience."

         "Yeah, she does," he said, a soft smile on his face. Even though a small part of him was jealous of Layla's natural talent, she was also an inspiration to him. Yuri doubted he would be the star he was with any other partner at his side.

         His mother stared at him, eyes narrowed in suspicion. "Are you sure you're not in love with her, Yurochka?"

         He rolled his eyes. "Not this again. I told you, we're just friends."

         "Friends don't kiss the way you did on stage."

         "We were acting."

         "Your father never kissed any of his co-stars like that," she said. "I would have – what's the American phrase? Slapped him silly, if he had kissed someone like that on the stage."

         "It's only a publicity stunt, nothing more," he said, deciding to turn the tables on her. After all, if she wanted to stick her nose in his love life, then hers was fair game as well. "You should say 'yes' to Oleg already."

         "Oh, Yurochka…"

         "I mean it. Enough time has passed. You deserve your own 'happy ever after'."

         Brushing a loose strand of hair behind her ear, his mother sighed. "Maybe next proposal, if I haven't finally scared him off for good."

         "The man is crazy in love with you, Mama," Yuri said. "He wouldn't keep coming back and proposing to you if he wasn't. And I know you love him, too."

         "You really wouldn't mind? Me getting remarried?"

         "Oleg is a good guy, and he makes you happy, doesn't he?"

         "Yeah," she said, playing with the pave diamond heart-shaped pendant around her neck. Yuri recognized it as the gift Oleg had given her for her third "thirty-ninth" birthday. "Yeah, he really does. As happy as your father made me."

         "Then I don't mind at all," he assured her truthfully.

         "I'll think about it," she promised, rising on her toes to kiss Yuri on his cheek. "Thank you, my Yurochka. Now, come back inside. I'll warm up dinner."

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> DISCLAIMER: Yuri!! On Ice doesn't belong to me.
> 
> AUTHOR'S NOTES: I'm so sorry for the long wait. Like I mentioned at the end of the last chapter, I've been busy moving. Good news is, I'm really close to finishing the next chapter, so you won't have to wait so long for the next update. I'll probably post it next month, December at the latest.
> 
> Feel free to follow me on Tumblr at https://kaleidodreams.tumblr.com/

**Author's Note:**

> DISCLAIMER: Kaleido Star doesn't belong to me.
> 
> Feel free to follow me on Tumblr at https://kaleidodreams.tumblr.com/


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